Revenge
by Shield and Sword
Summary: Miss Parker temporarily gains custody of Jarod. COMPLETED!
1. Day the First

**Note: I'm basically sticking to what known canon there is regarding _The Pretender_, although some of this is definitely AU. Because _Pretender 2001 occurs immediately after __The Inner Sense, I placed it in the year 2000. By this timeline, _Island of the Haunted_ occurs shortly after in 2001, and "Revenge" happens a little after that._**

Part I

Chapter One: Day The First

Miss Parker fumbled for the key that would unlock the door to her modestly lavished home. She had lived here since she was a child and could maneuver through it blind if she had to. She probably would. It was dark – she'd stayed at The Centre late tonight because Jarod had hidden his clues well. All they'd manage to find so far was the address to her house, and it wasn't in his handwriting. Mr. Raines had made her Broots, Sydney, Lyle, and a couple of Sweepers stay until he was sure they couldn't find anything else. By the time she'd returned from the nowhere in Maryland – the name of the small town currently escaped her – it had been nearly 4:00 P.M. She'd had a couple shots before returning to empty her office of the things she wanted to take home. There, Mr. Raines had detained her and reprimanded her for her incompetence, threatening to hake her off the team. It was the same speech she had heard countless times, and she acknowledged the wheezing man with a snarl as she left slamming the door after her. Traffic had kept her, and her mood had not brightened when premature snow started falling. No, it had not been a good day.

When she finally got the door open, Miss Parker decided she was feeling a bit peckish and turned on the light. Preoccupied, she didn't notice Jarod's unconscious form until she nearly tripped on him while on her way to get some ramen noodles. Smiling, she saw that he was cuffed and that he would be knocked out for a while. The back of his neck had recently stopped bleeding from the withdrawal of a hypodermic needle. When she noticed his bag of belongings to her left, she murmured, "Today is my lucky day." She dug through the identifications cards, DSAs, PEZ dispensers, bag of Fritos, and wallet, isolating his laptop, cell phone, unfinished picture, and red notebook. It was small wonder there hadn't been many clues at his last lair: Jarod's capturer had left it devoid of clues and hid them somewhere else. She looked back at Jarod, wondering how he could have possibly been caught so easily when she spied a small note tucked in his caller which read:

Dear Miss Parker –

I am sure you are glad to have Jarod under your control after so long. Six years! More than half a decade! Some people would have given up. You will have to – someone's gone and caught him for you. Not only that, but he has been sedated since three in the afternoon.

I assume that you have a spare room with easy access to the bathroom. Or rather, I know, having gone through your house. I suggest you chain him to a wall there and move everything out of reach. Just make sure not to give him anything he could possibly use to pick those handcuffs. Don't underestimate him.

You have until midnight which is when the sedation wears off (I gave him a fairly large dose), so go and clean out that room. Be prepared to hold him for a while – Mr. Lyle will be making a bid for power soon, and Jarod is your trump card.

Have fun.

PS. There is another syringe full of sedative in the bag next to you in case you need it.

PPS. You should replace your locks.

Now less certain of what to do, Miss Parker called Sydney.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Come over to my house. Now," Miss Parker said, her voice tight and hung up the phone.

Slightly confused, but hearing the urgency in her voice, Sydney left right away. He hoped the melting slush would not be such a hazard to his driving tonight.

Sydney rang the doorbell. When she did not come, he rang it twice more. Expecting a more prompt response, he yelled her name. "Parker?"

There was a flurry of footsteps, a pause, a small thump, and another small during which Sydney assumed she composed herself. When the door opened suddenly, Sydney studied her face. "Hello, Miss Parker. What seems to be the problem?"

She stuck her head out, looked up and down the street, and hissed, "Come in!"

She withdrew her head and Sydney stepped inside and hung his coat. He watched Miss Parker impatiently tapping her foot and glanced around the room as she shut the door.

Sydney gasped when he saw his former protégé on his side, cuffed and unconscious, and dashed to Jarod's side, all things temporarily forgotten. After several attempts to wake him up failed, Sydney glared at Miss Parker and, not quite thinking clearly, said, "Parker! What have you done to him?!"

Miss Parker became slightly annoyed. "I haven't done anything to him. I was at The Centre all day, remember?" She moved to Jarod's other side and kneeled opposite Sydney. "Now help me move him. He's in the way."

Together, Miss Parker and Sydney put their arms under Jarod's neck and knees and moved him to the spare room Parker had set up. Currently an unfinished study, whose renovation had stopped after Catherine Parker's death, the bare room contained but a lonely bookshelf and a pristine desk and chair set.

When Miss Parker saw Sydney notice the newly installed chain, she expected him to ask her if she really intended to try to hold on to Jarod, and composed an answer in her mind. Instead, Sydney asked her, "Miss Parker? How long have you had that chain?"

On the spot, she stammered out a reply. "I ... I wanted a dog. It'll do for now."

She linked the chain to the middle link in the chain that connected Jarod's feet-cuffs, tightening the screw with a wrench so that there was no way for him to possibly undo it by hand. Taking her tools with her, she left the unconscious man with Sydney.

Sydney looked sorrowfully at Jarod and asked Miss Parker a question. "You're just going to leave him here?"

Looking over her shoulder, Miss Parker gave Sydney a quizzical 'What else?' expression. "Of course."

"Don't you have a blanket or something?" Sydney asked out of concern for Jarod.

With her left hand, she vaguely gestured at a closet situated next to the bathroom. Sydney nodded his thanks and, after rummaging through the closet for a few minutes, was able to drape Jarod with a fluffy blue blanket. Jarod's lack of response hurt Sydney's heart, although he knew it wasn't the man's fault he was out.

"Miss Parker, do you have any idea who could have done this to Jarod?" Sydney asked once he left the room.

"I got a letter," Miss Parker indicated the coffee table on which she placed the note from Jarod's collar. "Don't touch it!" she reprimanded as Sydney began to pick it up. When she saw his surprised and bemused look, she added, "Do you have a fingerprint set?"

Sydney hit the sound of the click his brain made as he made the connection very well. "I'll bring one tomorrow." He looked at Miss Parker. "You intend to make Jarod match the print to an identity on an online database!" He gave a small chuckle.

A somber look settled on Sydney's face once more. "Did you glean anything else about this person?" He started to read the letter.

With an emotionless face, Miss Parker said, "He's one hell of an arrogant son of a bitch."

Taking this as his cue to leave, Sydney locked the contents of the note in his mind and bid her goodnight.

"Hmm..." Miss Parker murmured as he walked out the door.

The door shut, and Miss Parker snapped out of her reverie. Making a note to change the locks on all of her odors, she went through her nightly ritual, eating a dinner and showering. Smiling maliciously as she glanced once more at Jarod, Miss Parker closed the door and cut him off from the world he had come to love and despise.

Miss Parker went to sleep knowing her nest egg had finally hatched. If she was lucky, her brother would get the boot.

Sydney went to sleep troubled by his colleague's apparent lack of emotion.

Jarod quivered slightly under his blanket and stopped.


	2. No One Takes Change Well

Chapter Two: No One Takes Change Well

Jarod moaned and opened his eyes.

All he could see in the dark room were a few blurry shapes that seemed to advance and retreat in cycles. Like the moon. But no moonlight entered here.

Slowly, so as to provoke a headache, Jarod looked around himself. In a strange place and time, he was only somewhat surprised to find himself cuffed hand and foot. He tried to remember who had done this to him but his mind rebelled. Jarod tried again to cause that memory to resurface, but his headache got worse, so he left it at that.

When the pain subsided, Jarod attempted to stand up. The floor decided then was a good time to go through a fiendishly complicated loop-de-loop, and Jarod fell.

Deciding nothing productive was going to come out of his efforts to make sense of anything around him, Jarod arranged himself in a fetal position on the floor and covered himself with the blanket he woke up with but couldn't remember every having.

The genius closed his eyes and drifted off much too rapidly for him to notice that he had done so much more quickly than usual.

Miss Parker had had a very good night's sleep. Even with the assumption that Mr. Lyle wouldn't attempt his bid for power anytime soon, the future still looked remarkably inviting. She, for one, would not underestimate Jarod.

Miss Parker turned to face the alarm clock on the dresser to the left of her bed and turned it off before its incessant chirping could possibly ruin her day. Then she sprang out of bed and made her way to Jarod's room, which was near the back of the house. She half-expected some witty remark from the captive within. Instead, she found him still huddled under his blanket, apparently asleep. Miss Parker scowled at him and muttered, "Sixteen hours of sleep! You think he'd be awake by now."

The door closed with a small _click_ as Miss Parker left to finish waking up and she did it quickly. Soon, there was the sound of a percolator grinding coffee as well as the rustling of a plastic bag followed by the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl coming from the kitchen.

In a little while, Miss Parker emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee she occasionally took a sip from in her left hand and the bowl of cereal in her right. She set the cup on a table on the way to Jarod's room so that she would have one hand free to open his door. For the second time that morning, the door opened.

Jarod was on the floor finishing his stretches, and only when he finished did he look up at Miss Parker. With a smile he ignored the irritation she saw in her face and, referring to the bowl of cereal, asked, "I get room service for free?" He stood up.

Ignoring the question, Miss Parker offered the bowl. "Here. Eat this."

Peering into the bowl, Jarod watched a single cornflake sink slowly as the milk pulled it under. "Cornflakes?" He looked at Miss Parker, who did not look like a cornflakes kind of person at the moment. "I didn't order this."

Scowling, Miss Parker stared at him. "You didn't order anything. Just be glad that I brought you anything at all."

Jarod took the bowl and sat down. While he attempted to find the sunken cornflake, Miss Parker began to leave. Before she closed the door, however, he asked her a question: "Where are you going?"

Miss Parker turned around to find Jarod still poking at his cereal. In a matter-of-fact tone, she replied, "The Centre. It's where I work."

Jarod looked up, perplexed. "I thought your job was to catch me."

Giving him her infamously cold smile, Miss Parker gazed at Jarod. "I didn't say it wasn't."

"But ... I ..."

Miss Parker's smile grew wider: she delighted in his confusion. "Don't worry," she nearly sneered. "You wouldn't understand anyway."

Jarod watched her as she closed the door and waited until he could no longer hear her six-inch heels make their way out the door before he resumed looking for the lost cornflake. Presently, he realized that the whole bowl of cereal was getting soggy and spooned some into his mouth. When Jarod was done, he tested the chain and marked the end of the radius that measured his circle of domain with the empty bowl.

Returning to the secured end of the chain, Jarod rifled through his belongings. Miss Parker hadn't confiscated anything but his cell phone, red notebook, and unfinished picture, not even his money. Her current behavior struck Jarod as strange: Never before had she taken the time to neither keep him nor collect his things. An encounter with Miss Parker meant one thing: she'd bought him a one way ticket to The Centre. The fact that he usually made it a return trip seemed to aggravate her.

As Jarod dug through his various identification cards, he found he could not remember how Miss Parker caught him in the first place. He stopped and visited his last memory of the previous day.

_Jarod is driving a dark navy blue Corvette. He muses that it is the kind of car one might "pick up chicks" in, but he has no idea why someone would want to drive baby chickens around in a car. They'd mess up the upholstery and they smell funny._

_Unfortunately, the car is a gas guzzler. Alone on the open road, Jarod is thankful when he sees a lonely green sign with white letters that read "Bishopville, Maryland. Population: 243. 20 mi." __He accelerates from 60 mph to 100 mph in a couple of seconds. It causes him no anxiety. He was a racecar driver once. And should he run out of gas anytime soon, the velocity of the vehicle will keep him going for quite some time before he has to go out and push._

_Jarod arrives at the gas station at breakneck speed and nonchalantly refills his car. He studies the city around him. It appears that the small town has not followed the rest of the world into World War II and beyond. The streets are more accurately called roads and many of the houses need paint._

_The nozzle of the hose makes a choking noise; it is done. Jarod retrieves the pump and puts it away. Then he goes to retrieve his change from the man running the gas station._

_One of the more modern aspects of the gas station is the fact that it is also a convenience store. A bag marked with orange stripes across the top and a single red one across the bottom attracts Jarod's attention. Jarod picks up the bag and looks at the contents, which can be seen because of the way the bag is designed. The label is written in white and he reads it aloud: "Fritos Brand Scoops! Great for dipping. Corn chips. Hmmm." Turning the bag over, he is amused by the statement at the bottom, which he also reads aloud, softly to himself: "I know what I like and I like FRITOS Scoops! Corn chips."_

_Jarod approaches the cashier, a heavy man whose eyes and demeanor seem carefully practiced to reflect the energy of the city around him. "Can I buy this bag of Fritos?" he asks as he pushes a five dollar bill across the counter._

_The man takes the five and holds it up the light, his suspicion piqued by the crispness of the bill. Abraham Lincoln and the security tape stare back at him, so he places it in the register. He takes out three worn dollar bills, two dimes, and four pennies and places them in Jarod's hand. "Chips," he says, "are three dollars and the gas was eighteen seventy-six."_

_Jarod slips the change into his pocket and takes the bag of Fritos. "One more thing," Jarod says, memory provoked by the chips. "The words on the back of this bag of chips imply that they'd be much more enjoyable with dip. Do you sell any here?"_

_The man shakes his head once, as if the motion saps much of his energy. "No, we don't," he says simply and in a monotone._

_"Oh," Jarod says, just a little bit of disappointment creeping into his voice. He looks up and smiles. "Thank you anyway. Have a nice day."_

_The man does no return the farewell but simply nods once._

_Jarod exits the convenient gas station store, which is what he likes to call gas station/convenient stores. As he walks toward the car, he opens the bag of chips and samples one. Delight spreads across his face as he remarks to no one in particular, "Mmm! These are good!"_

_He hears the sound of rapid footsteps – someone is running towards him and he turns around. Out of the corner of his eye, Jarod can see the man from the cashier watching him. In Jarod's immediate domain, however, is the man who was chasing him. He is what people would call a "white man." He has dark brown eyes and hair, a very Roman nose, is clean shaven, and currently looks somewhat flustered. After he catches his breath, he says to Jarod, in a heavy Brooklyn accent, "'Ey, buddy." He indicates an area over his left shoulder with his right thumb. "Ya drop'd somethin'."_

_Jarod's gaze moves from the man's face to the area shown to him. The man moves out the way and to Jarod's side. "Really?" he says, sounding surprised and slightly confused. "I don't think I – aarrgh!" Jarod yells as the man stabs a syringe into his neck and gives Jarod all of its contents._

_Jarod turns around and sees the cuffs in the man's hand as his legs buckle and he falls. He is out before he hits the ground._

"Ow." Jarod rubbed the part of his neck the syringe had penetrated. To fill the silence, he spoke aloud to himself.

"There must have been a tracking system on my car. That would explain the man's appearance after mine. But why would he contact Miss Parker, if, as I assume, he would be eating out of Lyle's pocket?"

Jarod stared at the carpeted floor, which humbly and silently stated the opinion that it didn't care.

Bored of talking to himself, Jarod explored every inch of floor space the chain allowed him to visit, including the closet, where he assumed the blanket came from, and the bathroom.

The shelves of this closet (Jarod assumed Miss Parker had one in her bedroom as well) were made of a dark wood and were bare, save for a few extra towels and small blankets. In the side of the closet opposite the door, he could see the various gifts he had sent her over the years: her mother's music box with the two ballerina figurines, his book, _The Saddest Little Valentine_, his stain glass rendition of her ... and wondered why she had kept them.

The bathroom was cold and white. The floor was tiled, and a little beige rug in the middle of the floor was the only warm place in the room. Unlike the closet, Jarod was able to reach all areas of the bathroom. But there was nothing to see.

Exiting the bathroom, Jarod remarked, "Not a homey place," and arranged his belongings in a neat pile near the corner of the room farthest from the door. He opened the aluminum Halliburton case and chose a DSA at random sliding it into the drive. Jarod's gaze turned to the screen, where he saw a teenage image of himself sitting alone and assembling a small motorboat. Jarod retrieved a PEZ dispenser from his sack of belongings and returned to watch himself on the screen.

The young Jarod looked at the pieces on the table and looked slightly frustrated. "Sydney!" he called.

"Jarod, what's wrong?" Sydney asked once he arrived.

"There are no straight metal pieces! There are only spiral or coil springs!" The young Jarod picked up an example and dropped it in exasperation.

"Perhaps the springs can be ... bent?" Sydney suggested, using the dropped one as an example. His protégé smiled sheepishly.

Jarod pulled the head of the dispenser and listened to the spring inside the stem snap the head back into place.


	3. An Ordinary Day of Work

Chapter Three – An Ordinary Day of Work

Sydney heard the sound of her heels grow louder and looked up. Sure enough, Miss Parker's face appeared in the doorway. How she carried herself when she walked, not to mention the expression on her face, told Sydney that Miss Parker was especially irritated this day and that it'd be best if he treated cautiously while around her.

Miss Parker approached Sydney's desk, placed her hands on it, regardless of the various papers under them, and leaned forward. "You're a psychiatrist, Sydney," she remarked as her eyes pierced through his face and through the wall behind him. Or so it seemed to Sydney.

"Go on, Miss Parker," Sydney prodded in what he hoped what a neutral tone.

"Tell me ... what motivates Jarod?"

Perhaps later, Sydney would be able to ask her why she should ask such a question. Now was not a good time. He answered her instead: "I believe that at first, Jarod sought atonement for what he had done while he was here. That he did not intentionally kill anyone made no difference to him; the fact that he had been used by The Centre was enough of a reason." Sydney paused.

Miss Parker picked up some of the papers under her hand and took a seat. "And now?"

"Now, I think Jarod enjoys helping people. He enjoys the feeling he gets when he's finished righting a wrong. That feeling carries him through the times during which he is looking for his family and is constantly being disappointed."

A page with the Centre letterhead near the top caught Miss Parker's attention and she began reading it. Presently she looked up and Sydney could see she had gone from extremely irritated to normal, which, Sydney conceded, wasn't anywhere near contentment, but it was a step up. "Last question. Why on Earth doesn't Jarod just disappear?" Miss Parker asked as she returned the papers to Sydney's desk.

Sydney folded his hands and looked at Miss Parker. "Jarod is a complex character. Perhaps slightly more so because his motives are extremely logical when they regard The Centre. What I've come to conclude is that Jarod does this out of convenience. By controlling how fast we chase him, he is able to anticipate and plan ahead." Sydney paused, and Miss Parker got up and out of her chair. "On the other hand, he could just like vexing you."

"Don't push it, Syd," Miss Parker hissed at him, glaring at his slight smile. "This day did not start well."

Deciding it was better to ask now than to pursue the subject later, Sydney queried, "Why the questions, Miss Parker?"

"Keep your friends close," Miss Parker started as she headed out the door.

Sydney finished it alone: "But keep your enemies closer."

Miss Parker walked past Broots' dimly lit office and saw him cleaning up his things. She approached him with an amused smile. "Broots, where are you going today? You got a date with your internet buddy? Who is she this time, a middle-aged hippie with a goiter?"

Broots looked up, temporarily distracted from cleaning. "Oh, hello, Miss Parker." He started stacking papers. "For your information, the fare in the Centre cafeteria has gone downhill and I wanted to eat out today. And ... and ..." – Broots faltered under her gaze – "she doesn't have a goiter. She's rather nice looking – "

Apparently, Miss Parker had not heard the last part. The smile had left her face as she interrupted with "What time is it?"

Broots looked at the watch on his left wrist. "It's 11:45, Miss Parker. Time for lunch."

Miss Parker considered this for a while, then made an abrupt about turn and briskly left Broots confused.

Jarod had finally managed to take one of the PEZ candy dispensers apart. The pieces lay next to him in a forgotten manner.

Carefully, he straightened the middle of the spring and re-bent it into the shape of a horseshoe.

At a Chinese food restaurant on the way to her house, Miss Parker tapped her foot impatiently. As the person in front of her peeled out of line with his order of chow mien noodles, the cashier said, "Herro! How can I herrup you?"

Miss Parker said without hesitation, "Two of the sweet and sour shrimp."

After relaying the order to the chefs, he remarked, "Sat a rot of food for a ritter rady."

She glared at him and asked, "What a Japanese person doing in a Chinese restaurant?"

The cashier was spared having to comment due to the efficiency of the chefs. He gave the food to Miss Parker, who left with a muttered, "Doomo." As he served the next person, he was slightly disoriented, perplexed by the woman in heels.

Miss Parker quietly opened the door and saw Jarod working on the last cuff on his right hand. Crossing the room in six long, brisk steps, she re-fixed all of the hand cuffs. "You always find me at inconvenient moments," he remarked, somewhat annoyed.

"Lucky me," Miss Parker murmured as she left with the spring previously in Jarod's hand, the deconstructed PEZ dispensers, the rest of the dispensers, and the empty bowl of cereal. She returned with the sweet and sour shrimp. She took a seat in front of him.

"Thanks," Jarod said as he accepted the warm lunch. He opened the package of chopsticks and watched Miss Parker, unsure of how to go about using them.

She smiled at his uncertainty and opened her own as well. "Thank Broots. He reminded me it was lunchtime," Miss Parker corrected Jarod as she arranged the chopsticks in her right hand. She ate a shrimp.

Jarod mimicked Miss Parker, if a bit clumsier, and also picked up a shrimp. His first attempt splashed back into the soup and he looked at Miss Parker sheepishly as she suppressed her laughter and hid her grin with a napkin. The second time he confidently placed a shrimp in his mouth. Miss Parker watched as he chewed it slowly, and then swallowed, and she smiled at the delight on his face as he said, "Mmm! It's very good!"

They ate the rest of lunch in silence, and when they were done, Miss Parker took both of the empty containers to throw away. She got a last glimpse of Jarod before closing the door to his room – he was building a house of card with his identification cards – and then left to return to The Centre.

Broots intercepted Miss Parker on the way to her office. She acknowledged his presence with a customary "What?"

Broots trotted to keep up with Miss Parker's long strides. "Ahm ..." he began as he handed a file to Miss Parker, "as you know, the only clue left for us at Jarod's last lair was a piece of paper with your address on it. I had the piece of paper dusted for fingerprints and did a computer search to find the person the prints belong to. There's a list of possibilities inside the file."

Miss Parker looked at the manila folder. Taking the papers out, she held the folder with her right forefinger and thumb. "Don't you ever run out of these?" she asked Broots.

Broots stammered out a 'no' and Miss Parker put the documents back in the file. "Anyway," he continued, "the possibilities are in there. As well as a copy of the note with your address on it."

They reached Miss Parker's office. "Thanks, Broots," Miss Parker said as she stepped inside without him.

"You're welcome," Broots called from the threshold, which was where he hesitated before he left Miss Parker to her own devices.

In her office, Miss Parker glanced through various documents quickly. They were not thorough background checks of the people, just a description and a list of the jobs they currently had. Her attention became drawn to the handwriting on the note, which was strangely familiar.

Sydney was in his work area studying a pair of mentally impaired identical male twins. He was perplexed by the way the twins seemed to act as one person. Both of the twins seemed to be stumbling around blind, even though only one was in a dark chamber. He heard a voice that said, quite loudly, "The adventures of Dr. Frankenstein."

Sydney turned around and saw his young colleague. "Oh, hello, Miss Parker," he said, and went back to observation.

"What are you doing?" she asked, apparently with genuine interest.

The psychologist was pleased that Miss Parker seemed to be in better humor. "As you know, the Centre has me doing research on paranormal relationships and psychogenic tendencies between twins while I'm not hunting for Jarod."

"Ah." Miss Parker said. She looked at the twins in the individual chambers. "And these?"

"The relationship between these two is very ... unique." Sydney sounded genuinely bewildered. "The twin in the dark, Castor, seems to be the controlling twin. When he stumbles, Pollux, the twin in the light, stumbles. When Castor eats while Pollux doesn't have any food in front of him, Pollux will go through the motions of eating. It's very odd."

"The Centre is a collection of oddities, Syd'" Miss Parker mused. She watched Castor and Pollux stumble and fall as one.

"What brings you to my work area, Miss Parker?" Sydney inquired, curious about her real purpose.

"Hmm?" she said distractedly as she watched Pollux trip over an object that wasn't there. She looked at Sydney as she registered the question. "It's Jarod," she said finally. "He's cheerful."

Sydney scribbled a few observations in his notebook. "How so?"

"He's friendly." Miss Parker picked up an optical illusion and turned it upside down. The number of cubes depicted changed. She turned it right side up again. "During my other encounters with him, he was anxious to escape. After lunch today, he was building a house out of ID cards."

Sydney pressed two buttons, causing Castor's room to flood with light and Pollux's room to be drained of it. The stumbling and falling stopped. "It might be because he's correctly deduced that he's going to be under your control for a while so he might as well make the best of things."

Miss Parker set the optical illusion down. "How can he be sure?" she asked. "For all he knows, I could bring him here tomorrow."

Sydney looked at Miss Parker carefully. "I believe it does it by looking at your eyes," he said and went back to observing Castor and Pollux.

"Ah," Miss Parker murmured as she wrote a note on a Post-It. She gave it to Sydney and reminded him, "I'll see you tonight, Syd'." She left.

The scientist looked at the note, which said 'fingerprint set' and pocketed it. Then he went back to studying the twins while meditating on Jarod's behavior.


	4. First Night

Chapter Four – First Night

That evening, when Miss Parker opened the door to Jarod's room, she saw that he had decided to take a nap sometime after completing the Taj Mahal to his right. She closed the door and Jarod, curled up on the floor under his blanket, stirred slightly.

In a little while, the doorbell rang and Miss Parker tipped the delivery man who had brought her the rice and teriyaki. She opened the door and found Jarod sitting alert and with half a grin on his face. "Hello, Miss Parker," he said.

She nodded by way of acknowledgement and watched him use the chopsticks in a comfortable manner. She continued watching and sure enough, delight spread on his face once more and he asked what it was.

"It's rice and teriyaki," Miss Parker answered. "'Teri' coming from the Japanese meaning 'glazed' and – "

"'Yaki' meaning 'broiled'" Jarod finished.

Miss Parker looked at him. "Did you know that or can you speak Japanese?"

Jarod gave her a mischievous grin. "_Nihongo_ hanashieru.__ Demo, amari joozu."_ __I can speak Japanese. But not very well._

There was a pause during which Miss Parker just sat there, staring at Jarod. Presently, she asked, "_Doko__ de Nihongo narau?" _Where did you learn Japanese?__

He gave her another grin. "_Toshokan_ de hon yomu._" __I read it in a book at the library._

The doorbell rang again and Miss Parker put her bowl down. Leaving Jarod to finish his teriyaki, she went to greet Sydney. He was laden with bags, none of which were heavy, but she relieved him of them nonetheless.

"What are these?" Miss Parker asked Sydney as she looked into a bag full of clothes.

"Those are for Jarod," he said as he chuckled. "He does need a change of clothes, doesn't he?"

She dug through another and ended up with an art set with one hand and a 5000-piece puzzle in the other. She looked at Sydney. "And these?"

"I wouldn't want him bored," he said as he took out the fingerprinting set and opened it. "Where's the letter?" he asked.

Miss Parker recovered it from under the coaster on the coffee table where it had been hiding. Touching it with only the nails of her forefinger and thumb, she placed it before Sydney, who dusted it on both the back and front. He took out a piece of tape, adhered it to one of the fingerprints still intact to the tape, and fixed the tape to a small card. He gave this to Miss Parker and started cleaning up. "There," he said. "Jarod should be able to get a good fix on that."

Miss Parker took it, but continued to stare at the handwriting on the note. She realized why it seemed so recognizable. "That's the same handwriting my address was written in on that note!" she murmured.

Sydney looked at her. "What are you suggesting, Miss Parker?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," she replied. "Jarod's captor was stalking him, cleaned out his lair, and then caught him."

"Ah."

"I'll go put this –" Miss Parker held up the fingerprint on the card. "– on a disk. You can bring Jarod his gifts." She gestured at his other bags and stalked out of the room.

When Sydney opened the door to Jarod's room, he was sitting with his arms resting on the knees of his legs, which were bent before him. His indifferent stare changed to a cheerful grin when he saw Sydney enter with his many presents. He stood up and, after helping his mentor with his bags, gave him an inadequate hug, crippled as he was with the handcuffs.

There was an awkward moment during which neither said anything. Breaking the silence, Sydney said, "How are you, Jarod?"

Jarod sat down and Sydney joined him. "Same as I always am," was the cryptic reply. "Occasionally annoyed, occasionally frustrated, but on the whole, I'm okay. What about you, Sydney?"

"I'm also doing well, thank you," Sydney answered. "How does staying at Miss Parker's suit you?"

"Oh, it's fine. The food's good and the floors are soft but my bed is kinda hard. And I get bored a lot."

Sydney chuckled. "How long did it take you to make the Taj Mahal?"

Jarod appeared to be doing mental calculations. "Two or three hours? I don't know. I couldn't decide what to make and when I did, it kept falling down. I was going to build the Empire State Building but the identification cards are unsteady." Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he asked. "What are in the bags?"

Sydney took the art set in one hand and the puzzle in the other and gave them to Jarod. "These are for you, so you don't get bored." Then he gave the other bag to Jarod. "And these are clothes. There are enough for quite some time. You wouldn't want to wear the same clothes for days on end, now wouldn't you?"

Jarod smiled. "No, I wouldn't." He gave him another crippled hug. "Thanks, Sydney."

"It was the least I could do," Sydney said modestly. "If you have to be somewhere against your will, I might as well make it worth your while." This statement had an apologetic tone.

"Very touching, Sydney."

Both Sydney and Jarod looked up at Miss Parker who brought with a disk. She set the Halliburton case up in front of Jarod and waved the disk very close to Jarod's face. "There's a fingerprint on a file on this disc," she said, "and I want you to find out who it belongs to." She inserted the disc into the laptop's floppy disc drive under the keyboard.

Jarod made no attempt to do what she said. "What is this, some kind of private Centre project?" he asked, enunciating the words carefully and making no effort to disguise his loathing for the place.

Miss Parker pulled a gun on Jarod, much to Sydney's dismay. "Do it, Jarod, or I will shoot you."

To her surprise, he laughed. "You wouldn't. You've already got me where you want me and I'm your ticket out of The Centre."

She took the safety off and cocked her gun. In the moment of tense waiting that followed, Sydney intervened, getting up and putting his hand on Miss Parker's forearm and lowering her gun. "Jarod," he implored, "I promise this is not some innocent person we are searching for. And I assure you, I would not be asking you to help us if it were not an urgent matter."

Jarod looked up at Sydney and his demeanor softened. Still reluctant to help, he asked, "Couldn't you get someone at The Centre lab to do this?"

Putting the gun away, Miss Parker relaxed. "You might be able to provide us some insight that those idiots can't."

"Fine," Jarod said with a sigh. "But don't expect any miracles. Out of five million people, there'll be a couple hits." Sydney sat next to him and watched. Miss Parker picked up her bowl and finished the remainder of her rice and teriyaki, pacing the room. Sydney indicated the empty bowl next to Jarod. "I can assume that was Jarod's dinner?"

Jarod had started a game of FreeCell to occupy himself while the search engine ran. "It was very good," he said, distracted by the game.

Sydney chuckled. "Was it your first taste of Oriental food?"

The computer displayed a small message to indicate it was done at the same time Jarod finished the game. He closed the FreeCell window and displayed the list of names. "I don't suppose processed ramen counts," he said to Sydney as he displayed the list to Miss Parker.

She put her now empty bowl of teriyaki down and crouched next to the laptop. "Show me the people."

A small picture of the person as well as vital info showed up in a side bar to the right of the list. Jarod read the names aloud, clicking on them when he said them. "Leslie McPherson – " click ... "Patrick Manatius – " click ... "Rodney Porter – " click ...

The list went on. Just as he was getting quite bored, Jarod clicked on "Andrew Stuard" and gave a small gasp. Although the man in the picture was a blonde sporting a dark mustache, Jarod had no trouble recognizing him. The distinctive Roman nose and the mole above it between the brows could only belong to one person. In his mind, Jarod recalled the man who injected him with the sedative and gave him a name: Andrew Stuard.

Miss Parker had heard the discreet gasp and looked over at Jarod. His eyes were penetrating the air just before the laptop screen in the manner of someone who has recognized a face and has just figured out who it belongs to. She made a mental note to remember Stuard.

Sydney looked at Jarod's surprised face, and then at Stuard's, and postulated Stuard was a polite intellectual who could be bought at the right price. Someone who could be used by The Centre. Sydney kept this supposition to himself.

Jarod quickly regained his bearings and clicked on the last couple of names. "There," he said to Miss Parker, "did you get the insight you wanted?"

"Hmmm?" Miss Parker murmured inattentively, contemplating her next couple of moves. "Yes, thank you, Jarod," she continued distractedly.

"Can I go now?" Jarod said, picking up the bag of clothes and indicated the bathroom.

"And do what?" Miss Parker started and looked at Jarod.

"You want me to stay here, don't you?" He moved his handcuffs slightly.

Miss Parker widened her eyes as she realized what Jarod was asking for and gave an amused smile. She left and returned a second later with a key and let Jarod go to the bathroom unfettered. He gave her an appreciative smile and closed the door. Miss Parker watched him and appeared to be contemplating something when she added as an afterthought, "Jarod, if you're not back in ten minutes, I will look for you."

There was a sort of heavy sigh as the water turned on. "Alright," he said from behind the door.

Sydney turned away from the computer screen and faced Miss Parker. "There is no window in the bathroom?"

"Nope," she replied, also grinning as she took the two empty bowls and laptop away.

"How long do you intend to keep Jarod here?" Sydney asked Miss Parker in a hushed tone when she returned.

"Until Lyle comes out from under whatever rock he's been hiding and goes for that power grab."

"Beware the silent dog and still water," Sydney recited.

"Hmm."

In time, Sydney looked at the analog watch on his left wrist and said, "Miss Parker? The ten minutes are up."

Miss Parker started and looked at Sydney, then rapped on the bathroom door. When there was no response, she turned the knob and entered.

Jarod was still in the bathroom. He had not escaped. The reason he had not answered was because the neckline of the shirt he was putting on fit rather snugly around his head. Miss Parker watched him turn and take the shirt off, transfixed. Sydney watched her make an abrupt turn and walk out of the bathroom as Jarod opened the medicine cabinet and give the shirt a y-neckline with a razor. The physician smiled at her and she replied with an irritated, "What?"

This time, Jarod was able to put the shirt on and came out of the bathroom and wondered for a second at the open door. Miss Parker came with the handcuffs, so after he closed the door, he held out his wrists and she re-shackled them.

Sydney got up and, out of habit, dusted the seat of his pants wit his left hand although the floor was carpet. "I should be going, Miss Parker," he said. To Jarod, he bid goodbye.

"Goodbye, Sydney," Jarod said with a sad smile.

"Don't cry, Jarod," Miss Parker snapped. "You'll see him soon."

Sydney nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Parker," he said and left.

Miss Parker followed him out and locked the door. "Lights out," she said when she returned, and turned off the light before closing the door. She heard a muffled "goodnight" sneak out of the room at the list minute and a rustling of chains that continued for quite some time. When it stopped, Miss Parker attended her own needs.


	5. Background Check

Chapter Five – Background Check

Miss Parker strode down a corridor and entered a dim room. There was no one there but someone would return soon – Broots was never away from his computer for long. She paced, and before long, he came back with a manila folder and was surprised to see her. "Miss Parker!" he exclaimed, "I've been looking all over for you! Listen, the lab was able to narrow it down to – "

She walked right past Broots and he took this as a cue to follow her. She gave a dismissive wave. "Save it, Broots," Miss Parker said tersely. "I want a background check on Andrew Stuard."

Broots looked at her, amazed. "How did you know about that? Nobody at the lab's spoken with you very recently and I just – "

"A little caged bird I know was humming to himself," Miss Parker said cryptically and receiving another sidelong glance from Broots.

"Okey," Broots said. "Um, I couldn't find you anywhere so I made an educated guess and did a background check." He handed her the file. She flipped through it as the neared Sydney's office. "And seeing as how he knew Jarod – or at least knew where he lived – I figured they kept in touch so I made a record of where he's been doing his transactions and maybe that way we can find Jarod." Broots said this last part in Sydney's presence.

Miss Parker slapped the folder onto Sydney's desk. He opened it. "This is Andrew Stuard?" he asked.

"The one and only," Miss Parker said. "According to this file, he landed a job at TekNolo-G while the unemployment rate here was at a relative high, in April, right after his finishing parole. A few months later, he has made his way to the top although he's already been arrested several times for burglary, either by holding up a bank or scamming the stock market. No way could someone with this background have risen so fast so far."

"You smell a rat," Sydney prompted.

"Broots. Get me a report on what Lyle is doing," Miss Parker said.

The computer geek looked flustered. "Lyle? No one's seen him during the past month, much less known what he's doing. Last anyone's heard, he was supposed to be in Africa meeting with the Triumvirate."

"And what is he supposed to be doing there?" Miss Parker gave him a Look.

Broots heaved a weary sigh. "I suppose I'll go find out."

"You go do that," Miss Parker said a little curtly. Broots left.

"Andrew's cash transactions say he was staying in Baltimore, but he was in Bishopville when he captured Jarod two days ago." Sydney ruminated as he looked at the table Broots had created and then looked up at Miss Parker, whose heels he heard leaving the room. "Where are you going?"

"To Bishopville, of course," she said with a slight smile as she looked at the clock. "Right after lunch."

A black limousine parallel parked behind a blue Corvette in front of a motel. It looked very out of place in the small dusty town. The chauffeur could imagine dead tumbleweed rolling its way across the scene before him.

Miss Parker stepped out. She looked once more at the piece of paper in her hand. "This is the place," she mentally affirmed to herself. "Dusty Town Motel." She said as she looked at the backwards settlement around her. "Cute."

She took out a mirror and checked her face. Miss Parker wanted to look like she was desperate, like she was searching for a lost brother. She recalled Jarod's haunted look and when she was satisfied with her imitation, she put the mirror away.

Taking timid steps into the motel, Miss Parker approached the man at the check-in desk. "Please," she pleaded as she dug through her purse and pulled out a much-handled photograph, "Can you help me find my brother? Andrew Stuard? This is what he looks like ..." Her voice broke.

The man's haggard expression softened as he crept from around the desk. "Of course. He stayed here just a while ago. Let me take you to his room." The clerk started up a set of stairs.

Miss Parker looked up and stopped sniffling for a brief while. "You mean he's gone?"

"Yeah. You just missed him." The man saw Miss Parker's face become more distressed. "How are you related to 'im, anyway?"

"He's my half-brother. My mother made a mistake on Prom Night and put him up for adoption. I've been looking for him ever since I found out about him," Miss Parker explained between faux tears.

"Ah. I kin unnerstan'. My wife worked at a agency that helped locate missin' kids. The stories she told me were so sad." The man gave her a sympathetic glance. "My angel coulda helped ya out, but she crossed over to the other side just last year, God bless 'er soul." The entered a hallway.

Still putting on the pretext of searching for her half-brother, Miss Parker asked, "What was Andrew like?"

They had reached the end of the corridor. The man unlocked the door on his right – 217 – and ushered Miss Parker into the room. "He was a quiet guy – kept to himself mostly. Was impatient – mighta been waitin' for somethin'. Coulda been you."

Miss Parker regarded the room at a glance and, still playing the part of sister searching for family, walked around the room, taking an indirect route towards the cardboard box on the bed. She sniffled and peered into it. A red notebook, the book _Bart Simpson's Guide to Life_, and a Lunchables lunch were inside. "Are these his?"

The man nodded from the doorway. "Brought 'em with 'im, yeah. You kin take 'em if you want. I don't think he's comin' back."

Looking up, Miss Parker gazed at the face of the man, who seemed to be really sincere. "Thanks for all of your help." She picked up the box. "I appreciate it. Other people wouldn't have been so assistive." She smiled. "I guess I'll be going now."

The man stayed behind to lock the door and Miss Parker traversed the corridor and made her way down the stairs with the box. As the man watched her step into her limousine and tell her chauffeur to step on it, he held his cell phone to his ear. "Mr. Lyle? It's me, Seth. Just wanted to tell you the brunette with the legs dropped by. Put on a performance so good I woulda fell for it if you hadn't told me she was coming. Made up some shit about searching for a half-brother. ... Yeah, okey ... later."


	6. Family Is a Strange Concept

Chapter Six – Family Is a Strange Concept

That night, Miss Parker sat on her couch brooding about the connections between the links in the chain that was currently her dilemma while drinking a cup of coffee. There was Jarod, whom she had unresolved feelings for; Andrew Stuard, whom she assumed was being employed by The Centre; and Lyle, her brother who had been missing for a month. Raines was also unusually quiet for someone who'd just been made head of The Centre, but she decided to leave him out of the equation for now.

She sat, ruminating like this for quite some time until the silence bothered her. Putting her coffee down on the table before her, Miss Parker stilled, listening for all possible noises. Presently, she became aware of a soft hiccupping noise, the kind which happens when one is in the middle of a cry and is trying to stop. Curiously, she peeked into Jarod's room.

Jarod sat in a corner of the room in the middle of his puzzle pieces. It appeared he had grown bored and had started to draw a picture. This picture he now held in his unsteady hands. Miss Parker watched him look at the family he had drawn on the fragile piece of paper, on the back of which she could make out a family tree where the Charles and Parkers were connected through Ethan.

Knowing there was nothing she could do to help him, Miss Parker quietly closed the door and let Jarod work out his emotions by himself.

The next morning, Miss Parker dumped the contents of the cardboard box she had found the day previous onto the desk in her office. Judging by the colorful book and the packaged food, a kid had introduced Jarod to some more of the world's wonders. And out of all the wonders in the world, the kid had to choose the Simpsons and Lunchables.

She flipped through the red notebook, which recorded another one of Jarod's triumphs. Headlines popped out at her: "4.0 College Student Disappears Few Months Before Graduation" ... "Mutilated Body of Missing College Senior Found in Forest" ... "Liberal Arts College Professor Apprehended and Awaiting Trial". There was also a picture of the student: a pretty girl with auburn hair and a handsome smile. And she had died alone, Miss Parker realized. Reminded of her mother's death at the hand of Raines, she whispered, "No one should have to die away from the ones they love."

There was a timid knock on the jamb of the open door to her office. Miss Parker looked up at the visitor as she picked up the cardboard box and replaced the bound notebook. "Broots," she said. "Take this to Sydney."

Broots held it as he looked inside. "_Bart Simpson's Guide to Life?_ Is this what you found in Bishopville?"

Miss Parker gave him a sharp glance, "Who told you about Bishopville?"

"Well, I was looking for you, and Sydney told me where you went," Broots said, explaining himself. "Something came for you yesterday." He handed her the envelope in his hands. "It's from the genetics lab."

Briefly glancing at the front, Miss Parker turned the envelope over as she returned to her desk and slit it open with a letter opener she had retrieved from a drawer. She looked at the piece of paper inside as she laid it on the table. Procuring a bottle of brandy and a shot glass which she methodically cleaned with a convenient napkin, Miss Parker poured herself a drink and quaffed it. When she poured herself another, Broots took a step forward but stopped as she used it to douse the paper and envelope. Wordlessly, she produced a match and snicked it on the side of her desk. She dropped the match onto the results from the genetics lab, and when they lit up with flames, she strode out of the room, pushing Broots out of the way.

Broots turned to yell after her. "Miss Parker! Miss Parker?" When she did not respond, he returned to the scene before him and became mesmerized. When the rest of the desk began to catch on fire, Broots came to his senses and retrieved the fire extinguisher which sat in a corner of the room, dusty and forgotten. Thanking the heavens when it functioned as expected, he put the fire out and stared at the desk Miss Parker had nearly destroyed with hardly a thought.

Sydney stalked into Broots' office. "Broots!" he said, impatient. "Where's Miss Parker?"

"I don't know, Sydney," he said, flustered and uneasy. "She left sometime before lunch. I don't think she was feeling well." Which was, Broots tried to convince himself, not actually a lie. He just edited the truth.

"She should have been back by now." Sydney slammed the fist into the door jamb. "Where could she be?"

"Her car has a tracking system," Broots offered. "I could hack into it and tell you where she is."

Sydney looked eagerly at Broots. "Can you?"

Turning to his screen, Broots said, "Uh, yeah. Just give me a sec."

There was the sound of rapid typing, interspersed with brief pauses. Sydney paced during the time Broots used to hack. After what seemed like forever, Broots looked up. He moved out of the way, allowing Sydney to get a view of the computer screen. "As you can see," he said to Sydney, "Miss Parker's been at The Reckless Bar for a couple hours now."

Sydney leaned a little closer to the screen, memorizing the address of the tavern. When he was done, he thanked Broots and left.

"No problem," Broots said. When Sydney was gone, he remarked aloud, "One day I'm going to ask one of you guys what today was all about."

Jarod placed yet another piece of the puzzle and admired the way it fit. Then, deciding she should be home by now, called for her by name. "Parker! Parker?" Jarod listened, then added timidly, "I'm hungry."


	7. Deal With It

Chapter Seven – Deal With It

Sydney nodded a thanks to the cab driver and stepped out after paying the man. He looked at the ramshackle building before him. "Adequately named," he commented as he stepped inside. "The Reckless Bar."

There were people lounging and chatting quietly. A lonely juke box sat disused in the corner. Sydney scanned the room and finally found who he was looking for: Miss Parker was sitting on a stool hunched over a dingy counter sipping at a shot glass. He approached then touched her on the shoulder. "Miss Parker?"

Miss Parker looked up. "What?"

"Is this where you've been all day?" Sydney asked.

"Yes," she snapped. "Now go away." She returned to her drink.

Sydney was concerned. "So you haven't fed Jarod?"

Miss Parker gave him an irritated glance. "Is Boy Wonder all you think about?" Finishing the shot, she added, "He's a Pretender. He can pretend himself something to eat."

Losing his patience, Sydney forced Miss Parker to face him. "We are discussing you, Miss Parker. And you need to discuss your problems. Getting drunk at a poorly kept bar is not going to help things."

"As much as you'd like to believe you are, Sydney, you're not my psychiatrist. I don't need to discuss anything with you. And you aren't my father, so don't tell me what to do."

Sydney asked yet another question before she could order another drink. "Would you do what Raines told you to do?"

Miss Parker looked at Sydney in shock. She did not believe she had knowingly divulged the identity of her biological father to anyone. "How did you know about that?"

"I do not believe anyone who has just received scientific confirmation  from a lab that her family is what she has been brought up to believe it was would go and try to drink the confirmation away."

Lacking sobriety, Miss Parker didn't bother untangling Sydney's complicated explanation. Instead she asked, "What?"

Patiently, the doctor explains, "You wouldn't come to a bar to celebrate the fact that Mr. Raines is your father. You did come to a bar, so he is your father."

A drink had come and Miss Parker quickly downed it. When she was finished, she said, "Oh."

Once more attending to the immediate problem of getting Miss Parker out of the bar, Sydney asked, "How many shots has that been?"

In a moment of eccentric reason, Miss Parker worked it out and remarked, "If it was beer I was drinking, I'd have drunk 75% of the mug."

Not impressed, Sydney affirmed, "So you're drunk."

Toying with the glass on the counter, Miss Parker quipped, "You're a genius, Syd'. A real brain."

Sydney's last nerve frayed and broke. "Fine. Stay here. Don't sober up until it's too late and you've already crashed into another car because you were driving drunk. Join the rest of the Parker women and become another statistic."

Miss Parker sat up with a gasp. The last phrase echoed in her mind. Was it really all of the Parker women? Her mother had feigned suicide but had eventually been murdered by ... no, she had not yet accepted Mr. Raines as her father. That was why she was here in the first place. And Bridget had died immediately after labor. What Sydney said was true: no natural deaths for the Parker women. And now there was only one left.

Only one left. It was an evil phrase in the current circumstances. Evil and borne of The Centre.

An ambulance raced by, sounding its obnoxious siren and sending someone to a hospital. It shook Miss Parker out of her musings.

"Sydney?" Miss Parker asked as she looked up. "Could you drive me home? Please?"

He gave her a smile. "I'd be glad to."

Sydney drove Miss Parker home as promised. However, as much as he wanted to visit Jarod, he did not linger, unwilling to provide Centre operatives a reason to get another glimpse at his private life. So he left after Jarod was fed and Miss Parker had sobered up, leaving them to a lonely evening by themselves.

It was a very lonely evening indeed. After Sydney departed, the two gave each other more than enough elbow room. Jarod left Miss Parker alone because she didn't seem to be in the mood for socializing and Miss Parker because she had not yet finished getting over her drinks.

When Miss Parker grew bored, however, she went to watch Jarod work on his puzzle. It was relaxing to watch the genius – she could let her mind wander – and, used to a life in the camera, he did not get self conscious or inhibit any behavior. He just calmly did whatever it was he was doing. In this case, he was rapidly putting a picture together piece by minute piece.

Presently, Jarod began studying the picture of his family he had drawn the night before. He studied in between placement of jigsaw pieces. On one such occasion, Miss Parker said, "That'll probably be the only place you see your family together."

Jarod looked up at the doorway, where Miss Parker stood leaning on the jamb with her arms crossed. "Hello, Miss Parker," he said, as if noticing her for the first time.

Miss Parker's face held a carefully hidden pained, yet exasperated look. Her expression piqued his curiosity and he cocked his head. "Will you ever give up?"

Jarod gazed at each of the people in his picture, all of whom he'd come so close to being reunited with: Margaret, his mother; Major Charles, his father; Emily, his sister; Kyle, his deceased brother; Gemini, his clone; Ethan his half-brother. Somewhat despondently, he replied, "I can't. They're still out there."

Taking up the drawing board that had come with the art set Sydney had given him, Jarod began sketching on a new piece of paper. "Will _you_ ever stop searching for your family?"

Miss Parker's eyes flashed. "I didn't know I was searching," she said coldly.

Jarod looked at her. "You know who your family is?" he inquired, his eyes curious, as if somewhat surprised.

Her eyes flashed again. "Of course." She recounted each of her relatives, her tone reflecting her opinions of them. "There's Mother," – nostalgia – "Lyle" – reluctantly – "Daddy" – bitter reminiscent – "and Ethan."

Jarod watched Miss Parker's face as he reminded her of a fifth person. "What about Mr. Raines?"

Abandoning the door jamb, Miss Parker strode towards him with menacing steps. Jarod winced as she extended her hand in a threatening manner. When nothing came, he opened his eyes and saw her holding the picture of his family. She was looking at it with an almost envious expression. When she spoke, her voice was mocking and bitter. "I've got a pretty twisted family, for someone who was supposed to have lived a normal life."

Surprised by the unexpectedly emphatic statement, Jarod looked at Miss Parker. "At least you're searching for the truth," he said in a weak attempt to comfort her.

Miss Parker started pacing the room. "Do you want to know where it's led me over the years?" she asked angrily. "I learned about a twin brother who got an immediate display of affection from my father right after he found out about him. Not to mention, my twin is a cannibal. I learned my mother didn't die on that elevator. No, she was killed and cremated seven months later by Dr. Raines, right after she gave birth to a half-brother with the 'Inner Sense'. Then the brainwashed assassin nearly went and killed both of us. I learned my father may not be my real father. His sperm count's way too low for that. Then today I learned that my 'uncle', Mr. Raines, is my father! It's official!" She threw her arms up into the air. "My father is a wheezing airbag who killed my mother!" She used father in a dirty way. Glancing at Jarod's pained face, she resented his sympathy. "Things were going swell for me until I had to go hunting for you," she said, hastily putting the blame on the well-meaning person before her. Accenting each word with a jab to his chest, she hissed, "You had to go searching for the truth!"

Jarod sat, taking the rant and blame calmly. "It would have been better to live a lie?" he inquired in a subdued tone.

Miss Parker stopped pacing abruptly and sat next to him. She stared at the nearly completed puzzle. "Do you know how destabilizing it is?" she asked softly, the rest of her angry spent during the forceful declamation. "Do you now how unstable everything becomes? Every time I adjust to some new truth you've uncovered, I find out I've been taking something else for granted." She turned to face Jarod. "Do you know that feels?"

Jarod's eyes remained on the puzzle. It depicted a garden full of wildflowers, transplanted from their original location and carefully placed into unnatural plots, restrained from growing free any longer. It reminded him of The Centre. "It's like balancing on a ball of lies," he said finally. "Each new truth alters the shape of the ball a little, and you want to keep going because the new shape will be so much more beautiful than the ball of lies, but you can't stand losing your balance." Jarod met Miss Parker's gaze. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

They regarded each other for a moment. Miss Parker turned away first. She fiddled with a puzzle piece. "Why do you do this?" she asked.

Jarod didn't understand. "Do what?"

Miss Parker gave a sardonic laugh. "After all the times I've tried to turn you into The Centre, you still try to help me."

There was just the hint of a smile as Jarod glanced at Miss Parker. "That's just the Parker curse," he said, referring to their cat-and-mouse relationship. "Everything else is up to us."

"Hmmm," Miss Parker mused. She got up to leave. "I'll think about that." Turning off the lights, she called into the dark, "Goodnight, Jarod."

For a moment, Miss Parker thought she saw twin orbs hang in the dark, as if Jarod's eyes reflected some light or truth she couldn't yet grasp. Then she blinked and they were gone.

A sudden noise from behind her startled her into jumping; Jarod had thrown his voice. "Goodnight, Miss Parker," the voice said as she shut the door.

"Ahm, Miss Parker. It's nice to see you back."

Miss Parker half-turned to face the bald man who had addressed her. "Oh, hello, Broots." As an afterthought, she added, "Thanks for caring."

Broots cocked his head as he shifted his gaze to the spot of tile just left of her feet and continued modestly. "It was the least I could do. No one else seemed to notice you were gone, except Sydney."

As they walked, they observed Raines give Lyle a welcome-home hug. While it seemed slightly uncharacteristic of Raines, Miss Parker envied her twin for a single moment – not even Daddy had given her signs of affection – and sighed. "No," she murmured, "My family wouldn't notice me gone."

Timidly, Broots offered an opinion. "Well, Miss Parker, it depends on how you define family."

Miss Parker cast Broots an odd glance. "What?" she asked with a slight shake of her head.

"Well, even though he denied to Jarod, I'm sure Sydney still thinks of Jarod as his son."

Miss Parker rebuffed Broots' attempt to comfort her. "Yeah, well, Syd needs a hobby."

They watched Raines and Lyle speak animatedly. Miss Parker felt another pang of jealousy. Even with her Daddy – Mr. Parker, not Raines – she had not been able to converse so well. Broots gave Miss Parker a sidelong glance and murmured, "Be that as it may, a new definition of family may be your only choice."

Miss Parker was sitting at her desk, idly playing with a pen when Sydney appeared at the door. He knocked at the jamb, awaiting permission to enter her office. "Miss Parker? May I come in?"

She neither looked up nor stopped fiddling with her pen. "If you want."

Sydney relaxed into a chair. "You look distracted ... What are you thinking about?"

"The truth ... family ..."

"What are your feelings regarding your recent finding?"

She cast him a glance. "If you're dispensing psychiatric advice, Sydney, I already received some last night. I was just thinking of something Broots said this morning."

Sydney waited for her to continue.

"He said that you thought of yourself as Jarod's father. Do you?"

Sydney folded his hands, pressing his thumbs together. "I've never told him that, but ... yes, I think I once entertained the notion."

"What about now?"

"I've considered it more than once. If you saw things my way you would agree that it couldn't be helped. Jarod is a human being, after all, and like each of us, he needed – and still needs – love."

"But does it work the other way? What if you just found someone you hated was related to you? Do you still have to love them?"

Sydney considered his response. Finally, he shook his head. "No, it may not always work the other way. Feelings entirely opposite to the ones you are used to cultivating aren't easy to reap. Something has to be sown."

"Like what?"

"A desire to know where you came from. A willingness to forgive and accept. An ability to reconcile with and acknowledge the newfound relative."

Miss Parker sighed. "No way am I ever going to 'forgive and accept' Raines."

"Well, it's not a two-day process, Miss Parker. You just found out about him yesterday. These things take time."

"A thousand years would be a drop in the bucket."

"If you say so."

"Yeah..."

Sydney studied Miss Parker's face for a minute and when it did not look like she would be saying anything more, he got up. "I'll be going, Miss Parker."

"Mmm," she acknowledged as she ruminated. Before Sydney was out the door, however, she asked him a question. "What are you doing tomorrow, Sydney?"

He glanced at the calendar on her desk. "The fourth Thursday of November. Thanksgiving, isn't it? I think I'll stay at home, read a book. I don't feel like going to work tomorrow."

"Me neither," she murmured quietly. She doodled on the box on the calendar with the number '22' in it. She looked up at the door, where Sydney stood, waiting. "Uh, Syd ... do you want to come over to my house tomorrow? We can all spend Thanksgiving together."

The psychiatrist considered the woman. Newly scarred and recently broken as she was, the last he could do was comfort her over the holidays. He smiled at her kindly. "Thank you, Miss Parker. I'd be glad to enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner with you. When should I be there?"

She debated a time with herself. "4:00 should be good. You can play with Jarod while I finish preparing."

Sydney envisioned coming into Jarod's room as he worked on the puzzle and could imagine his protégé's surprise. It brought a greater smile to his face. Returning his gaze to Miss Parker's face, he said, "That'd be nice, Miss Parker. I'll see you then."

Miss Parker wandered down an aisle in a supermarket in a leisurely fashion. She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing, but she did not feel it. Her last real Thanksgiving had been nearly a decade ago. Her shopping cart reflected her memories: There were yams, an assortment of herbs and vegetables she'd remembered in her stuffing, turkey, and more. _It's just as well Jarod is at home_, she thought. _I wouldn't be able to prepare all this by myself._

That evening, Miss Parker arranged the new food items in the refrigerator, ready for tomorrow. Then she went to watch Jarod.

The puzzle was little more than a third done and he did not stop working when she came in. He did, however, ask her a question: "How are you feeling, Miss Parker?"

She turned away with a resigned expression on her face. "Not you, too."

Jarod cast her a perplexed glance as he shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Everyone I've run into today has tried to give me psychiatric advice."

"How many is everybody?" he asked, throwing her a curveball.

"Well, two," she admitted. When she smiled, she quipped, "Well, how many people give you psychiatric advice?"

"I'm my own shrink."

"And if you go mad?" Miss Parker asked, unsatisfied with the response.

"I'm too smart to go mad," Jarod said, closing the topic with half a smile. "What about you?"

"Why would I?"

Jarod exaggerated her predicament. "A lovely girl lives alone with her uncaring father, her mother having died when she was ten. Years pass and she becomes a beautiful woman, the striking image of her mother. Her father's company puts her to work searching for a childhood friend. While hunting for him, she learns she has an anthropophagic twin and a half-brother born to her mother several months after she supposedly committed suicide in an elevator. When she finds out the man who killed her mother is her father, and her adopted father is really her uncle, her mental barriers collapse and fall. Unable to distinguish between the truths and lies in her life, she descends into a violent madness that ends with her bombing her father's workplace and dying with it."

Miss Parker gave him an odd stare. "You make my life sound like the synopsis of some pulp fiction novel."

Feigning innocence, Jarod murmured, "I did, didn't I?" as he returned yet another puzzle piece to where it belonged.

"I'm too level-headed to go insane."

"No one with your story could be sane."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Jarod looked at her. "That brings up an interesting question. Who are you?"

"What kind of question is that? I'm Miss Parker."

"A name's just a label. I, of all people, should know that. If you didn't have a name, who would you be?"

Miss Parker leaned on the door jamb, pondering the question she did not have a quip to. No name meant no family. Jarod was spending ages reuniting his. If she were in his stead, would she do the same? ... Of course she would. Because it wasn't just the name that was important, it was the sense of belonging that went with it. Family as where you were cherished and respected because you were you. Admittedly, her family was as yet none of those things. But digging for the truth meant digging for the past, and who she was had bearing on who she could become. Uncovering her history helped her decide her path. And she would go where the path led, ever mindful of where she came from: she was a Parker.

Returning her gaze to Jarod's, Miss Parker gave him a stern glance. "Hypothetical situations are just that: hypothetical. They aren't real. I am who I am, Jarod. My name is Miss Parker.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Jarod turned away first. "That'd be a good thing never to forget," he said quietly. He continued working on the puzzle, assembling another flower.

She continued to watch the man work on the puzzle. Her own was like that. Each search into each lead yielded a bud, and although the resulting flower might not smell nice, it was easy to find. Suddenly, she felt pity for Jarod, who could not search for his past without being jumped on.

Miss Parker got up abruptly. Her thoughts were steering into murky waters, and it would not do to have a soft spot for her captive. She needed to think of him less of a person and more of a lost thing that needed to be returned to its owner. Once out of the room, she could start doing so. Out of sight, out of mind, they said...

"Lights out, Jarod," Miss Parker said aloud before she flipped the switch. Jarod looked up at her, his deep-set eyes penetrating hers. When he found what he was looking for, he broke his gaze and arranged the blanket around himself. He bid her goodnight as she closed the door.

For a moment, all that could be head was the ticking of the clock. Then, in the darkness, Jarod whispered to himself, "Everyone needs to be treated like a person."


	8. Preparations

Chapter Eight – Preparations

The door opened and light entered the room. It encompassed everything in it and left nothing hidden.

Jarod, however, remained asleep.

Presently, he was shaken awake. But then again, it was much earlier that he was currently used to so he ignored the unrelenting agitation.

Finally, the person shaking him awake spoke. "Get up, Jarod. You've got a lot to do today."

Jarod propped one of his arms up and opened his eyes, and for a second, Miss Parker could see the hurt and pain before he replaced them with a guarded look. Slightly bent out of shame, he asked, "What do you want me to do now?"

Miss Parker was undeterred. Jarod's reluctance to do anything against his will was understandable. "It's Thanksgiving Jarod, and I've invited someone over for dinner."

"Oh," Jarod murmured as he accepted the reason. After a second, he said it again, this time with a smile on his face. "Oh! I get it. You invited – "

"You weren't supposed to guess!" Miss Parker interjected. "His visit was supposed to be a surprise."

Jarod gave her a sly look. "Technically, I didn't guess."                         

Miss Parker gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. Just go and clean up and meet me in the kitchen." She stalked out of the room.

Jarod stood up, someone perplexed by the second half of her directions. Then he noticed his hands were uncuffed and his feet weren't chained to the wall. They were, however, still cuffed to each other. Miss Parker didn't trust him fully yet. It was just as well. If roles were switched, he'd probably do the same thing. _Meh, he thought as he shrugged his shoulders and went to do what she asked._

In the kitchen, Jarod saw Miss Parker taking various things out of her refrigerator: carrots, spinach, potatoes, leeks, and apples, to mention a few. There was a ten- to twelve-pound turkey sitting in some water in the sink, and he was watching it thaw and Miss Parker threw a book at him. He caught it and read the title. "_Make the Holidays Tasty by Yourself?"_

"Yeah," she said, her face hidden by a bag of cranberries. "We're gong to be doing the highlighted ones."

He opened the book and scanned the table of contents. "Biscuits ... almond apple stuffing ... pumpkin pie ..."

"The oven's going to on all day," Miss Parker complained. "And I'm going to be stuck in a hot kitchen with you."

"At least it'll smell nice," Jarod said with cheerful optimism as he looked up each of the recipes. "What are we going to start with?"

"Do the soup."

"Alright," he said as he flipped ahead to a page. He read it twice and closed the book. He gathered the potatoes, leeks, carrots, spinach, and water. After cutting the first three into chunks, he dumped the aforementioned into a large saucepan and made a sandwich while he waited for the contents to boil. Miss Parker watched him.

"Do you always do things that way?"

Jarod was confused. "Do things how?"

"Like you know exactly what you're doing."

Still perplexed, he answered, "I guess."

Miss Parker asked him yet another question. "Is this the first time you've done this?"

"Yeah ..."

"You don't feel any anxiety? You don't wonder if you'll mess up?"

"It's just soup," Jarod said, wondering about Miss Parker's current mentality.

She pressed on. "But supposing you decided to be a neurosurgeon. You'd just do some research and you'd start working on brain hemorrhages and aneurysms the next day?"

Jarod finally understood. "Oh, this is what you wanted to know?" He looked at Miss Parker as he cut his sandwiches in half, diagonally down the middle. "Your Centre stole me and gave me an unusual gift: the power to become anyone, anything. Sydney trained me well. He taught me everything I needed to survive out there." Jarod looked out the window and wished that he could be in the sunlight. "Out there, I am whatever I want to be ... except myself. I don't know who I am." He paused for a moment, and Miss Parker gave him an apprehensive glance. Jarod picked up both slices of the sandwich and gave one of them to her. "I guess, today, I'm a chef."

Miss Parker watched Jarod pour a puréed mixture for a blender into a stockpot. It smelled very good to her, and she itched to taste it, her sandwich long gone. She glanced at Jarod, who was peeling and coring for large green apples. When she was sure he wasn't looking, she crept forward with a spoon. He turned around and rapped the fingers of her transgressing hand with a wooden spoon. "Unh unh unh," he reprimanded.

She rubbed her right hand tenderly. "What did you have to do that for?"

"Not until dinner," he explained as he resumed with the chopping of the apples. "It'll taste better if you have it for the first time tonight."

Miss Parker was amused with the change of roles. Now _he_ was telling _her_ what to do. Enjoying herself, she went along with it. "Well, what am _I supposed to do?" she asked, injecting a bit of a pout into her voice._

"How about the cranberry sauce?" she suggested, preoccupied. Jarod was, however, not to preoccupied to notice the reversal of roles as well.

It was nearing noon, and the aroma that drifted from the pumpkin pie in the oven and the biscuits cooling on the counter was driving Miss Parker up the wall. In addition, she felt useless in her own house; Jarod was sautéing apples, almonds, onions, and celery in butter while making a light salad that would satiate but not stuff. In short, it was an appetizer. Jarod had promised that she would be able to eat as much of the salad that she wanted, but she still tried to snatch a spoonful of applesauce or a muffin. On each of the occasions, he'd stopped her, catching her wrist and holding it firmly while he made her relinquish the spoon or baked good.

On time, she'd jokingly remarked, "You'd be nice to have around the house."

He didn't stop measuring the flour while he responded with, "That's what The Centre thought, too."

Needless to say, that had wiped the smile off her face.

In an attempt to stop Miss Parker from stealing food from behind his back – the salad had done nothing to fill her – Jarod had given her the task of sautéing the almond apple stuffing while he prepared the turkey. Parker of Miss Parker's willingness to accept the task, however, was due to her inability to watch Jarod remove the neck and giblets. She had stuck a finger down her throat and feigned gagging. Jarod hadn't recognized the gesture, but when he figured it out, he smiled and told her to work on the stuffing. So here she was, getting hot and becoming bored as she watched the stuffing and butter mix. Finally, she asked, "Aren't you done yet?"

Jarod looked up from the turkey, which he was dabbing at with a paper towel. Seeing Miss Parker's slightly annoyed expression, he grinned. "Impatient, Miss Parker? Are you growing warm by the stove?"

She gave him a sardonic smile. "No, I've been taught to think standing near an active stove is the best way to stay cool."

He finished dabbing at the turkey and peered inside of its cavity. "Yeah, I think I'm finished."

With a set of oven mitts, Miss Parker carried the stuffing over to the counter, where Jarod was working with the deceased fowl. He tossed the soiled paper towels into a nearby trash can and rinsed his hands. Then he paused, as if recalling a bit of text. Satisfied with his memory, he very decisively began loosely stuffing the bird. She watched Jarod's methodical filling of the bird, and, somewhat disgusted by the scene she was watching she remarked, "Ew."

Jarod looked up with a somewhat exasperated demeanor. "Really mature, Miss Parker. Haven't you seen anyone do this before?"

Miss Parker remembered a Thanksgiving many years before. When she was little, her mother had stuffed their turkey, preferring to take part in a traditional custom rather than take the easy way out. Mr. Parker – her uncle, she remembered – often suggested going to a restaurant. Shaking her head to clear it, she found Jarod staring at her, expecting an answer. "Of course I have," she said. "But you've never done this before. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do," he said, and recited and annotated set of directions. "Thaw, empty, rinse, dry, stuff, and roast."

"I feel very confident of your abilities to stuff a turkey," she said, although anyone could tell there thee was sarcasm leaking out of every letter.

Jarod stepped aside and gestured at the bird. "Well, since you know how it's done, why don't you do it yourself?"

Miss Parker rolled up her sleeves and rinsed her hands. "Fine," she said, never one to back down from a challenge. She savagely picked up some dressing and shoved it into the fowl. "I'll stuff your turkey," she murmured sotto voce.

He smiled complacently as he found a chair to relax in and ignored any and all possible innuendos, preferring to enjoy his first real break since he had arrived.


	9. What to be Thankful For

Chapter Nine – What to Be Thankful For ...

For the second time that day, Jarod was shaken awake. Once he was more alert, Miss Parker rattled off a set of instructions. "Jarod, Sydney'll be here in about an hour. I need you to keep an eye on the mashed potatoes and the turkey. When it's done, could you make the gravy?" Jarod had barely opened his mouth when Miss Parker decided to charge ahead. "Okay, I'm going to set the table, and then I'll go shower and get dressed up. I'll come for you when I'm done."

With that, she left a very confused Jarod in the kitchen.

As promised, Miss Parker allowed Jarod some time to himself, during which she transferred different dishes to more presentable bowls and plates. By the time he was done, the table itself looked like it was anticipating dinner, which was waiting in the kitchen and looked like it was anticipating being presented on a table. On the way to his room, Miss Parker checked her self in a mirror: she was wearing a light blue blouse and a long thin blue skirt of a darker shade, with comfortable heels. It was neither too flashy nor too casual and she was satisfied.

Jarod, on the hand, she was far from satisfied with. He was dressed in a white flannel shirt and un-matching black sweatpants. "Don't you have anything _nice to wear?" she asked._

Rummaging through the remainder of his clothes, Jarod says, "Well, I have these..." He showed Miss Parker a set of dress pants.

"Those are good. Put those on." The doorbell rang; Miss Parker turned to leave as she yelled over her shoulder. "Hurry!"

She opened the door and greeted Sydney with a smile. "Come in, Sydney, come in."

With a nod, Sydney returned the greeting as he stepped inside. "Thank you, Miss Parker. It's nice to see you well and away from The Centre."

Hanging his coat and putting away his umbrella. His back was turned for but a second. It was enough time, however, for Jarod to appear by Miss Parker's side. "Hello, Sydney," he said with a grin.

"Hello, Jarod," Sydney returned as he shook Jarod's hand. "It's nice to see you up and about." Then, taking the two of them at a glance, he was surprised to see the peculiar way they looked like a couple.

"Um, Sydney," Miss Parker said ash she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind an ear and as Sydney gave himself a mental shake to clear his head. "You've got about three hours to kill before dinner, so you can spend some time catching up with Jarod. I've got things to do, and I'll join you later."

"All right," Sydney said and took a seat in a chair situation in front of and to the right of a couch.

Taking a seat across from Sydney, Jarod asked him nonchalantly, "How are you?"

Sydney replied, "I'm feeling very good today, actually. How are you?"

Responding frankly, his protégé said, "I miss the sun."

"I gather she doesn't let you out often." Sydney said. Glancing out the window, he asked, "Why don't you just walk out?"

Cracking a grin, Jarod said, "Then she'd have two reasons to shoot me: running away from The Centre _and_ ruining her Thanksgiving."

Although he was laughing politely, Sydney knew there was something Jarod was not saying. He opened his mouth to comment when Miss Parker decided to join their company. Taking a seat extremely close to Jarod, she asked, "So what are the men talking about?"

Jarod looked at Miss Parker uncomfortably, as if willing her to move a little further down. He fidgeted once, but did not say anything. Sydney saw the break in character and sent the conversation in a brand new direction. "We were just commenting on how good you look tonight." A little more pointedly, he added, "Isn't that right, Jarod?"

Quick on the uptake as usual, he smoothly replied, "A fine force of feminine fatale."

Hiding her surprise at Jarod's complimenting her, Miss Parker gave him a playful shove, which he took with shock and good nature. "You're just sucking up," she complained.

Feigning innocence, he replied, "No, I'm telling the truth." He held up two fingers and crossed them. "Scout's honor."

Forcing Jarod's hand down onto his knee, Miss Parker accused, "You can't do that! You were never a scout!"

"Does staying at the 'Y' count?" he asked.

She laughed and challenged. "You're going to have to do better than that."

Although Sydney was effectively left out of the verbal sparring, he harbored no ill will. It was nice to see both of them lay aside their differences for one day. And the part of him that wasn't musing on how interesting this would be as an experiment was overcome with emotion. He'd known Jarod and Miss Parker far too long to be merely friends. Among social relations, it was often nurture over nature. Jarod was yet to know Major Charles well and Miss Parker would probably never accept Mr. Raines. So as yet, he could continue to think of himself as their father.

With two hours to kill before the dinner started, Sydney, Jarod, and Miss Parker began a game of Monopoly. Sydney played as a hat; Jarod, a cowboy; and Miss Parker a thimble. Also acting as a banker, Jarod was wont to break into accents when either Sydney or Miss Parker landed in Jail, which frustrated her to no end. Jarod himself never went to Jail; instead, he took an early lead in the game by securing all four railroads, both utility companies, and Boardwalk and Park Place. It was only when he evaded the Luxury Tax once again did Miss Parker decided she would roll for Jarod, whom she accused of manipulating the dice. He pretended to sulk, and did a good job of it, and argued when Miss Parker broke his streak and caused him to land in Jail.

"You did that on purpose!" he accused.

"You landed on Boardwalk on purpose," she retorted.

In an attempt to stop the bickering, Sydney said, "Come now, Miss Parker, you know Jarod wasn't cheating." Jarod smirked. "And Jarod, it's high time you landed in Jail!"

Miss Parker laughed. Jarod, indignant, attacked him. "Hey! I thought you were on my side!"

Also laughing, Sydney returned, "Maybe you shouldn't have set up a hotel on Park Place _until I passed 'Go'!"_

Eventually the incident was smoothed over, and the game continued. It was 6:30 by the time Miss Parker had to quit the game, having landed on Marvin Gardens onto many times. (Like Boardwalk and Park Place, Jarod had also managed to furbish Marvin Gardens with a hotel after buying Ventnor Avenue from Sydney at the exorbitant price if $5000.) She sold what she could to pay Jarod, then willed the rest of her property to Sydney. Now the doctor had enough property to rival Jarod but since Miss Parker was out of the game, he was able to roll his own dice and began winning once more. The game ended when Sydney landed on St. James Place for the last time. In the spirit of the graceful loser, he shook Jarod's hand. "That was fun, wasn't it, Jarod?"

The protégé smiled. "Yeah, it was."

Then, lowering his voice in the manner of a co-conspirator, Sydney asked him, "Now tell me the truth: Did you or did you not manipulate the dice?"

Grinning mischievously, he answered, "What do you think?"

Sydney was still uncertain of the validity of their Monopoly game when Miss Parker burst in on them again. "If you gentlemen are done with the game, you may follow me to the dining room." As suddenly as she appeared, she left.

Jarod was not wont to leave the table on which he was playing haphazardly covered in Monopoly pieces and left only when Sydney told him, "We can take care of it later."

Miss Parker was waiting for them, hovering around the table she had lavishly set during the half hour prior. The placement of the dishes revealed her aesthetic sense, a side of her Jarod had never seen before. But then again, neither had he ever seen her so nervous, as if she thought everything would start going wrong. Compassionate as he was, he tried to comfort her, saying, "Relax, Miss Parker. Everything will go well," as he guided her into a chair.

"Alright ... if you say so," she murmured distractedly.

Coming around, he pulled a seat for Sydney at the end of the table, and ever the distinguished patrician he accepted it. Then continuing, he took the last seat, which was across from Miss Parker. Then, unsure of what to do, he asked, "Now what?"

Taking charge, Sydney commented, "Well, ever since the first Thanksgiving, it has been customary to say a grace before the meal." Miss Parker and Jarod gave each other perplexed glances, which Sydney noticed. "And since it looks like neither of you are very comfortable with this task, I'll do it. Just bow you head and close your eyes."

As they did so, he proceeded. "Our Father, in heaven ..." Jarod could tell that Sydney was unpracticed by the way he prayed. On the other side of the table, Miss Parker chuckled to herself, reflecting on the irony of the situation.

When the prayer was over, Sydney instructed Jarod to carve the turkey, and then the young man took over from there. All unfamiliar things, Thanksgiving included, are easier to continue once they are started.

No one took enormous helpings of anything – except possibly the turkey – because there was so much of everything else. Making small talk, Sydney complimented Miss Parker: "Everything tastes wonderful."

Smiling, she corrected modestly. "Thanks, but Jarod helped, too." Then, catching the look in his eye, she added. "A lot."

Sydney took this to mean that he had done most of the cooking.

Over the course of the dinner, many bowls and plates were scraped clean. In the end, all that was left were a couple of biscuits, some slices of pumpkin pie, an ear of corn, a yam, and some turkey, as well as anything had that hadn't been scraped off, and all of them were more than satiated.

"That was the best Thanksgiving I've had in years," Sydney remarked as he set his spoon down.

"Mmm-hmm," Miss Parker agreed, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

Jarod, having no frame of reference, said, "It was very good."

Pushing his chair away from the table, Sydney asked, "So what do we do now?"

"We could play a game of some sort," Jarod suggested. He had enjoyed Monopoly.

"Alright," Miss Parker conceded. "Sydney, can you find a board game Jarod hasn't discovered yet while we clear the table?"

"Of course," he said as Jarod got up to assist Miss Parker. Sydney left to clear up the old and set up a new game.

They exchanged few words while cleaning the table, and it was only when Miss Parker let it out that he'd be cleaning every single one of the pots and pans the next day did anybody start talking.

"Don't you have a dishwasher of some sort?" he asked, trying to get out of the task.

"Nope," she said airily. "I eat out too often. Never saw the need for one." Jarod sighed heavily. "Just think of it as another pretend. Today you were Jarod the chef. Tomorrow you'll be Jarod the dishwasher."

"Very funny."

They came upon Sydney in the living room. "What's funny?" he wanted to know.

Jarod scowled. "My pretend as her butler."

Miss Parker, meanwhile, had surveyed the table and wasn't pleased. "Clue?"

"In my defense, the older other games you had were chess and Battleship," he retorted, "and at least dice don't have to do with game play."

The other man joined them at the table. "What's Clue?"

Throwing the rulebook at Jarod to read, she turned to Sydney and quipped, "But a game of logic?"

"Good point," Sydney conceded, but drew up a chair for himself and Miss Parker nevertheless. "Please sit," he said as he gestured the chair, "Unless you'd rather help Jarod work on his puzzle?"

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she declined. "I'll take the board game, thank you. He's nearly halfway done with the jigsaw."

"Already?" he murmured.

"Yeah, well a giant Puzz-3D would have lasted him longer."

"Then he wouldn't be able to finish it."

And Miss Parker was reminded yet again of Sydney's contradicting roles as Jarod's guardian, their friend, and reluctant agent of The Centre.

After re-reading some of the regulations of the board game, Jarod set them aside and alerted them haltingly, "I think I get it."

"Then you know I go first," Miss Parker said as she rolled her dice and advanced her red token in to the Library.

The game proceeded in like fashion with Jarod becoming more adept as each of his turns went by. His extremely logical mind allowed him to keep track of the cards his opponents held without using a detective pad and soon he was making misleading suggestions of his own. It wasn't long before Sydney, relying on one of the false hints, made a wrong accusation. Soon after that, Jarod also made an accusation – Miss Peacock in the Ballroom with the Candlestick – and won the game.

Throwing down her cards, Miss Parker said, exasperated, "Isn't there anything you're not good at?"

Jarod turned to face her; she was just a little peeved, so it wouldn't hurt to toy with her. "I don't know," he said truthfully. His talents had always served him with they needed him.

Curiosity piqued by the answer, she asked, "Come on, Syd, Jarod isn't perfect. What are his weaknesses?"

Following his protégé's lead, the doctor replied, "He's always risen to the challenge."

Sighing, she remarked, "Neither of you are very helpful." After awhile, she guessed, "Horseback riding?"

"Nope."

"Writing music?"

"Dunno; never tried."

"Dancing."

"I could learn."

"Rubik's cubes."

"Nope."

"Tic-Tac-Toe."

"Huh?"

Miss Parker demonstrated a game with Sydney, losing intentionally so that Jarod could get the point. After murmuring a soft, "Oh," he said, "Nope."

Trying another childhood game, she suggested, "Rock, Paper, Scissors."

Not knowing what she was talking about, he repeated, "Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Shaping her hand into a fist, she said, "This is rock, which beats scissors – " She held up two fingers. "Scissor cuts paper – " She opened her hand. "And paper beats rock."

"How?"

"Don't ask me. It just does," a remark to which Sydney chuckled.

"Alright," Jarod said. "I get it."

Rolling up her sleeves, Miss Parker grinned. "Get ready. I was really good at this when I was little."

Each of their first plays was paper, but the game rapidly became ferocious. Jarod took it all in good nature, but sometimes Miss Parker's moved surprised him. She as very good at picking out his thought patterns and kept outwitting him.

The tables turned in the middle of the game, and Miss Parker started losing. Finally, when she'd had enough, she quit. Sydney, who had been keeping tally mentally remarked, "That's funny. You've tied."

Rubbing it in, Jarod added, "But if we'd kept going, I would have won."

"Would not," Miss Parker disagreed.

"Would too," her opponent insisted.

It was a part of their lives they'd both missed out on, Sydney noted: childish games and childish arguments. It also struck him as odd that Miss Parker had nearly beaten Jarod in a face to face game of strategy. Almost, but not quite.

And he remembered that she had also been tested for the genetic predisposition that marked Pretenders. Perhaps it was only her mother's intervention that had saved her. Without that crucial factor, she would have suffered the same fate Jarod did. And as their arguing turned to verbal sparring once more, Sydney realized the two were more alike than they thought.

Sydney left much later that night, and Miss Parker reminded Jarod of his captivity soon after that. She went to bed in good humor.

Miss Parker didn't go to The Centre the rest of the holiday weekend. Indeed, she rarely left home at all, save for the occasional errand or to buy the daily newspaper. Jarod had asked to be kept up to date in the latest events, and indulging him with a fifty-cent newspaper was the easiest way.

She hadn't been so carefree since her time with Thomas. A lot of her time was spent lounging or watching Jarod. Although it was quiet sometimes, there were no awkward silences; they were as comfortable as old friends.


	10. A New Player

Part II

Chapter Ten – A New Player

The next Monday, Miss Parker went to The Centre in good spirits and she knew why. Despite her resolve to ignore his humanity, there was something in Jarod that could not be dismissed. He still felt concern for her regarding the recent discovery of her paternity, and his naïveté and brutal honesty allowed him to bring up the subject when she thought it long buried, thus helping her to accept it. In addition, his rivalry with her gave him a brazen spirit that had only been slightly dampened by captivity, and he was unafraid to say anything.

But she knew it was a façade – his soul was clouded and his sleep troubled. On the couple of nights she had come to make sure he was alright, he tossed and turned constantly, unable to find refuge from his nightmares and further tangling himself in his chains. And Miss Parker felt slightly guilty, unable to help Jarod the way he'd helped her.

Nothing rubbed it in more than how she found him when she returned.

She had ordered pizza because she wasn't in the mood for Chinese food, and she didn't feel like cooking. Unsure of Jarod's preferences, she called and asked him what he wanted on his half of the pizza. He replied, somewhat despondently, "It doesn't matter."

To the person on the other end, Miss Parker said, "Extra pepperoni, extra cheese. Small. Two cokes. Medium." After a while, she smiled into the phone. "Mm-hmm. You, too." Then she hung up.

She took some money out of her purse and left it on the coffee table. Then she excited the room to join Jarod.

He was sitting in his corner, the laptop behind him repeating a certain DSA over and over again. The rest lay around him, as if he had been searching for something. Like the newspapers strewn all over the floor, it was about a plane crash. The titles of the articles mimicked the briefing Jarod received before the simulation. "400 Dead" ... "Pilots Suspected of Suicide" ... "Airline Cover-Up" ... "A Second 9-11".

Jarod spoke in an angry, bitter, impassioned voice. "Look at those DSAs, Miss Parker. Don't tell me none of them have to do with death." He picked one up and spun it on his finger. "My death, the death of others ... My legacy is death, Miss Parker. All this time, I've searched for atonement, as ell as my family, and when I think I've found it, or them ..." Jarod glared at his captor. "The Centre is there to make me start at square one."

"It's not your fault, Jarod," she said quietly.

Just as softly, he asked, "Can't you imagine the pain, the anxiety, the fear they felt as they crashed into that building? I might have done something to save them."

Attempting to get him to defer his blame, she responded, "You can't save them all."

His voice shredded with fury, he growled, "That's what Sydney said. My response is still the same ... I can try."

The doorbell rang. Jarod looked up at Miss Parker. "I assume that's your pizza," he remarked flatly. Then he turned and slumped, as if weary. She left, but from the living room, he heard the pizza man's thankfulness for her large gratuity before she entered again.

She might as well have stayed outside. Jarod neither responded to her calls nor reacted to her touch. In the end, she left him alone.

Miss Parker sat at her kitchen table, chewing on a slice of pizza and slowly sipping her drink. As she did so, she studied an old picture of her family. Her young self stood between her mother and father, blissfully unaware of the harsh future. It had been long since she lost her father, but even longer since she lost the humanity Jarod hung on to for survival.

She lay awake in bed that night. The metallic rustle would not stop – Jarod's pacing was keeping her awake. Miss Parker glanced at the empty space to her right and contemplated the empty space in his heart, and she knew that although they were very close, they were still very far.

Miss Parker entered Jarod's room considerably later than usual the next morning. Already in an irritable mood, she was further irked by his apparent cheerfulness and tossed him the pizza box. "Here. I don't care if it's cold," she said harshly.

Concerned by her display of malcontent, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"I was kept up half the night by your pacing." Jarod stared sheepishly at the man donned in a toga on the lid of the box. "I have half a mind to take you back to The Centre, but a certain someone's sitting like a lame duck."

Jarod wondered at the hidden clue and inquired as she walked out, "What does Lyle have to do with me?"

She returned with a soda, also cold, and thrust it in his hands. Then, her face very close to his, Miss Parker made her next statements clear. "Mr. Lyle doesn't have anything to do with anything. It's me you should be worrying about."

She left and slammed the door, further vexed by Jarod yelling at her, "Thanks for the pizza!"

Left alone, Jarod munched thoughtfully on a slice as he mentally reprimanded himself for the gross overlook he'd made. Lyle had never entered into his equation, and now that he was there, several things began making sense.


	11. Things Unravel

Chapter Eleven – Things Unravel

Spotting her striding through a corridor, Broots hurried to catch up, file in hand. Then, sensing her mood, he changed his tactics and called her name timidly. "Er ... Miss Parker?"

She stopped and looked at him. In an exasperated tone, she asked, "What is it now, Broots?"

Falteringly, he told her, "Um, well, there hasn't been anything on Jarod. It's like he's disappeared."

Wishing he'd get to the point, she sneered, "Yes, geniuses can do that. Get on with it."

"Yeah, well, this genius has a weak spot." Broots hurried to keep up with Miss Parker, who was heading for Sydney's office. "He likes helping people. Righting the wrongs of the world, if you will."

She turned to face him. "I already knew that, you dolt. Tell me something I don't."

He introduced a new subject. "Well, I assume you heard about the plane crash. It's on the front page of every single newspaper there is. They're saying it was almost exactly like September 11th."

Miss Parker thought of Jarod in his corner, upset because he hadn't been able to do anything. Aloud, she asked, "What does this have to do with Jarod?"

"It's really an amazing thing," Broots opinionated. He handed the file to her, and she started looking through it right away. "Mr. Lyle paid some guys to do a couple of services. They hacked into The Centre mainframe and made it look as if Mr. Raines transferred a lot of funds into his account." They entered Sydney's office. "In reality, Lyle had the funds diverted into a private account of his own and used the rest of pay the same guys who hacked into our mainframe to become chums with a couple of pilots. They slipped something into their preflight meals – some undetectable Centre concoction. It made the pilots fall asleep on the way to Chicago, without them even aware that they were going out, so the autopilot wasn't turned on. Mr. Lyle covered it up pretty well."

Displaying disgust and anger, she snarled, "That son-of-a-bitch. He killed four hundred people just so he could climb the Centre corporate ladder."

"Yes," Sydney agreed. "Mr. Lyle's ingenious plan not only cast Triumvirate doubt on Mr. Raines' credibility, it puts him in direct contest with you, Miss Parker. And since he assumes that you don't know about this plan and, more importantly, that this plan will work, you have a very big opportunity to stop him."

Miss Parker scowled at him and continued flipping through the file folder. In an aggravated tone, she asked, "Why is it everyone knows before I do?"

"Well," Broots started in an attempt to explain himself. "You arrived later than usual today, so I decided to tell Sydney – "

Jumping in, Sydney asked, "Why _did_ you come late today, Miss Parker?"

"My alarm clock didn't wake me up today. And I didn't sleep well." She gave him a cold smile. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, Freud?" she asked, putting emphasis on the last word.

He folded his hands and smiled in a neutral way. "No, nothing pressing."

There was a pregnant pause. Broots grew uneasy and gestured the door. "I'll just be going now."

Miss Parker waved her hand in a dismissive manner while she studied the folder she held in her left hand, and Broots took that as permission. Sydney got up and stood next to her, reading the document she was scrutinizing. "Do you think this is the opportunity the letter predicted?"

"Could be," she said thoughtfully. Miss Parker flipped a page and gave a small gasp. "Sydney," she whispered, urgency in her voice. "The name of one of Lyle's goons is Andrew Stuard."

The doctor's eyes widened slightly. "The man who sent you that note ..." The voice rose. "Lyle's known that Jarod's been in your house for a week and he hasn't done anything about it? But why?"

Miss Parker looked at another page; and Lyle's face returned the gaze. It seemed to be the same one from the newspaper article about two college girls Lyle had been accused of murdering many years ago. The only difference was that this was in color. "Why indeed?" she murmured thoughtfully.

That evening, Miss Parker decided to ask Jarod if her recognized Lyle's goons. If he knew Stuard, it was reasonable to hope that he'd seen the other.

She entered his room, where he was completing the puzzle. There was, perhaps, only a tenth of the puzzle left, and he was earnest to finish it. She drew near and sat by his side. She opened her folder to the profiles of Andrew Stuard and another man, whose face she knew was familiar but couldn't pinpoint. She waited until he finished placing another piece before dropping the file on the puzzle. Without preamble, she asked, "Do you recognize him?" She pointed to the man on the lower half of the page.

"Seth Meeker," Jarod read and recalled the last time he'd seen the man...

_Jarod waltzes into the car lot, where new and used cars of all brands and colors are waiting to be bought or leased. He eyes several sportscars – some Toyotas, a couple of Hondas, a Ford, a Chevy – and a salesman approaches him. The genius takes the man's profile at glance: He is greasy; his hair, slicked back; mercenary by nature and eel by trade. He is neither a portly nor a well-kept man, and his nails are manicured. The trait most memorable for Jarod is the smile he flashes – it makes him feel sick inside. The tag on his shirt says, "Seth Meeker."_

_When Seth speaks, he garnishes his lies. "See anything you like?" he drawls._

_"Oh, I was just looking," Jarod says. "These are nice, but I was going to get something cheap, like that '89 Ford over there." He points to a car in a distance, marked $500._

_Seth injects disbelief into his voice. "That titchy thing over there?"_

_Eager to be out of the man's presence but not wanting to seem impolite, Jarod asks, "Why? What's wrong with it?"_

_He smiles the nauseous smile. "Why?" he repeats. "You're bigger than that! It doesn't hold a candle to you! You can't hide that handsome figure into an itty-bitty Ford!"_

_Jarod sighs. Seth is using the oldest trick in the book: flattery. "So what's the car for me?"_

_He grins even wider. "You're a Corvette man. A V8, 300 Horsepower, power windows and locks man."_

_Unable to stand the dealer, Jarod walks over to the dark blue '95 Chevrolet he'd been looking at before. "Like this one?"_

_Seth follows him and gives him a pat on the back. Jarod refuses to recoil from his touch. "Exactly, my man. The kind of car you could pick up chicks in!"_

_If this were someone else, Jarod would have asked him what the phrase meant. As it is, he does not want anything more to do with the man. He sighs. "How much it is?"_

_Knowing Jarod is about to give in, he feeds him another old line. "It was $13,999, but for you, my friend, I'll let you get away with ten grand."_

_Briefly, the Pretender wonders how Seth had managed to sell any cars. "I'll take it."_

_Seth pats the hood of the Corvette and says affectionately, "Baby, you're going home." He offers a well-trimmed hand. Loath as he is to take it, Jarod shakes it._

Suddenly, Meeker's role in his capture was clear.

"We've met," Jarod said shortly but did not explain the circumstances.

Vexed, she asked, "Well, could you tell me how? He's working for Lyle."

Jarod remained silent for a while, drawing connections. Finally, he replied, "I figured as much. Stuard and Meeker captured me and caused that plane to crash under Lyle's orders. I'm here and the plane's out there because Lyle can't look like he had any part in this – the plane is bait – but at the same time, he wants to make sure I'm returned to The Centre. If things go as planned, it'll look like you were collaborating with me for a week before you turned me over, and if he tweaks the situation, you could wind up looking bad. Then he'll transfer me to under his care and deliver me to the Triumvirate. Again."

Miss Parker was stunned. "When did you figure this out?"

"Sometime this morning."

She chuffed. "Why does everyone have to know before I do?"

Jarod shrugged his shoulders.

She sighed. "I need some time to myself."

"If you want."

Miss Parker left just as her brain made the connection between Seth Meeker's face ... and the Dusty Town Motel. Angry that Lyle had been using her since the beginning, she began to form a plan.

Inside, Jarod was cognizant of the fact that Lyle had set the ball rolling ... and he needed to escape. Soon.


	12. She Executes Her Plan

Chapter Twelve – She Executes Her Plan

Miss Parker entered Sydney's office and began speaking without introduction. "I'm going to tell Broots."

The doctor, not knowing what she was talking about, frantically cast about for the topic of conversation for a brief moment. Finally, he asked, "What do you need him for?"

"I need someone tech-savvy enough run circles around the security," she explained. Then she added, "That, and I needed someone to help you move Jarod."

Sydney cocked his head slightly.

"Follow me," she said as she stalked out of the office. "I don't want to have to explain twice."

Broots looked up from his terminal. "Oh, hello, Miss Parker, Sydney."

"Good morning, Broots," Sydney returned.

"Broots, I've got a secret to share with you," Miss Parker began.

She described Lyle's plot in a sequential way, adding commentary she had stolen from Jarod. The bald man stayed silent, although he occasionally looked to Sydney for confirmation, and the doctor would give him a nod.

"But then, he didn't even really need to kill all those people," Broots murmured. "All that death is just ... sick."

"That and he's been using me the whole time, so I intend on giving him his just desserts," Miss Parker said.

"How do you intend on doing that?" the doctor asked.

She laid out her plan.

Jarod was sitting, admiring his work, when Miss Parker came in during the noon hour. He smiled broadly. "Look! The puzzle's finished! Eleven and a half days but I did it!"

_It's really sad to bring him down like this, Miss Parker thought as she grinned as well. "It's beautiful, Jarod. Do you want to celebrate by taking a ride?"_

"No, I think not," he said as the smile left his face.

"First, you don't want to stay here. Now you don't want to leave," she said, slightly annoyed. "What do you want?"

"I want you to let me go," he said softly.

She stepped forward and stood extremely close to Jarod. He retreated a step and backed into the wall. Miss Parker took one of his hands and unlocked the handcuff. He looked at her with surprise as she undid the other one. "Fine," she said. He stood still as she undid the ones on his feet.

Miss Parker straightened up and Jarod bowed as he gestured the door. "Ladies first."

She made no move, and he stood up. "I'm bending the rules today," she said with an odd smile. "You go."

He sighed and exited first. _There's no way I'm going to escape before we make it to The Centre_, he thought. He led her out of the house.

            Jarod was momentarily blinded when he first stepped into the sunlight, and when he recovered, he saw Broots waving at him from inside Miss Parker's car. She pushed him forward. "Did I tell you?" she asked rhetorically. "Broots and Syd are coming with us."

            He entered the car in a docile manner, as if resigned to his fate. After he was buckled in, Sydney asked him, "How are things going, Jarod?"

Miss Parker got in the car. "Absolutely swell," the protégé replied, sarcasm in his voice.

Very few words were exchanged for a long while.

As the drive progressed, Jarod grew more and more fidgety – he had been watching the houses go by and recognized the route. "Why are we going to Lyle's house?" he asked.

"Just sit still," Miss Parker told him in a no-nonsense way. Deliberately provoking him, however, she quickly injected him with a drug and just as quickly put the syringe away.

Jarod couldn't help but jump. Defending himself, he repined, "Something just stung me, Miss Parker."

Ignoring his complaint, she reiterated her command: "Just sit still."

Diffused by major muscle, the sedative took a while to react. After a while, Sydney could not help but notice that Jarod was asleep; his head was tilted forward and the only thing keeping him up was the fact that he was leaning on the doctor. He looked over the other's head to see what Miss Parker thought of the matter, but her face was decidedly turned to the window, and Sydney could see she was ignoring the pathetic sight.

After they parked in front of Lyle's home, Miss Parker unlocked the front door, using a key she'd stolen from her brother. Sydney got out of the car, causing Jarod to fall over. With Broots, he moved the dead weight into the house.

"Alright. Let's go," Miss Parker said when Jarod was on the floor.

"You're going to leave him like this?" Sydney objected.

Displaying unusual callous, she asked, "Why not?"

Not wanting to be in Lyle's spotless house any longer, Broots timidly inquired, "Can we go now?"

"Come on, Syd. Let's go. Lunch is almost over," Miss Parker repeated over her shoulder as she walked out the door. "If you don't join us, you'll have to catch a cab or something."

Sydney turned to leave, but not before giving Jarod a last sympathizing look.

The doctor approached her once more later that day. "How could you do it?" he asked. "You acted like Jarod was just an item to be gotten rid of!"

"You do what you have to, Sydney," she said coldly. "That's how you survive."

He seemed to detect a trace of guilt in her voice, and it felt like she was putting on a touch exterior to hide it. "Then for your sake and your conscience I hope your plan works," he said.


	13. He Takes the Bait

Chapter Thirteen – He Takes the Bait

Lyle stepped out of his car and loosened his crooked tie. He had just enjoyed a nice dinner at The Hidden Truth, where he had been "getting to know" another waitress. He'd gotten as far as her name and number. She expected him to call tonight, and he intended to do so.

He entered and turned on the lights with a gloved left hand and was slightly surprised to see Jarod's form on the floor. He knew, at once, that Miss Parker had decided to take action, but refused to believe that _she_ could similarly ensnare _him_. Lyle moved Jarod's face with a foot and, satisfied that the Pretender was indeed asleep, cuffed his hands behind him. Then he continued with his business.

Jarod stayed asleep the whole night. The sedative, which had been diffused, lasted until morning, keeping him in a light slumber. Lyle looked at him and smirked. "Wake up, pretty boy," he sneered.

The man on the floor moaned as he opened his eyes. "Where am I?" he asked.

Bringing his face very close to Jarod's, Lyle said, "You're with me." He got up again.

He groaned as things clicked and as the act induced a minor headache. He revealed the subject of his thought process in an exhalation: "Miss Parker."

"Yeah," Lyle drawled. "She was supposed to turn you in to The Centre after that plane crashed." He watched Jarod struggle to an upright position. "Oh well. Now I get to do it myself and reap the benefits.

"I am not going back there," the captive snarled.

"Of course you're not," he said vaguely as he pulled out a gun and covered Jarod's head with a hood. There was a sharp intake of breath as Jarod remembered being kidnapped as a child and he panted as he returned to the present. "What's the matter, Jarod?" Lyle asked out of feigned concern. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

There was no response.

Lyle mocked him with false admiration. "Of course not. You're too smart to be scared of the dark." Curious as to what cause the reaction, he asked, "Does the hood remind you of something?"

Once again, Jarod did not deign to respond.

Dismissing the topic, Lyle said, "It doesn't matter." He pushed the gun into Jarod's throat. "Come with me," he instructed as he guided Jarod out of the house, to his car, and into the passenger seat. "You're going home."

After a brief conversation on his cell phone, Broots informed Miss Parker: "My guy on Blythe Street says Mr. Lyle's taken the bait."

Sydney was also with them in Miss Parker's office. "Are you sure this'll work?" he asked.

"My dear brother underestimates both me and Jarod," she responded flatly. "We've got room for mistakes."

The captor and his captor approached the steps that led to The Centre. Feeling with his foot, Jarod never misjudged a step. In a moment of feigned kindness, Lyle held the door open for him and then made up for it by pushing him through when he hesitated.

"Welcome back, Jarod," Lyle said, gesturing the grand lobby the other could not see.

A man who seemed older than his age due to the portable oxygen tank he toted approached them. "What is the meaning of this?"

"The Triumvirate still wants Jarod back, Mr. Raines," Lyle replied in an insolent fashion. "Or has the bounty for his capture been removed without my notice?"

"Take him to SL-14," Raines sibilated. "I'll deal with him later."

"Ah, but I caught him," Lyle reminded. "Or is your memory not so good these days?"

"Fine. Have it your way. You can have him."

"Thank you, Mr. Raines," Lyle sneered. He pulled Jarod by the arm towards an elevator. Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots fell into step behind him. "What do you want?" he asked, irritated.

"I just wanted to offer my congratulations on finally capturing Jarod," Miss Parker answered, not the least sincere. "However did you manage to do it?"

"A few good leads and an overlooked clue can really be useful sometimes," he said, also acting.

"And where, pray tell, did you find these clues?"

Sydney began to hear a heavy breathing and realized Jarod was mad at Miss Parker. "Calm down, Jarod," he said.

Although he could not see the doctor, he managed to face him by pinpointing the source of the voice. "Thanks for the help, Sydney," he growled in a contemptuous tone.

Lyle cryptically remarked to Miss Parker, "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

The elevator finished descending and Lyle took Jarod's hood off. The five walked a short distance to an enclosed area guarded by a single Sweeper. The Sweeper unlocked the door, pushed Jarod in, and removed the handcuffs. After the Sweeper got out of the cage, the man inside began pacing and testing the bars.

Lyle began to leave. "Have fun," he said. "I'll see you later."

"Don't worry, Jarod," Sydney said in an attempt to console him. "I'll do what I can to make sure you're in good hands."

Jarod scowled. "I was in perfectly good hands in the outside world: mine."

Miss Parker smirked. "Not good enough." To Sydney and Broots, she said, "Let's go."

The three left. After making sure that Jarod would not be able to break out, Lyle left as well. The Sweeper put on a pair of extremely dark sunglasses yet and after a while, a strobe began flashing intermittently, blinding the Pretender and leaving sparks in his eyes.


	14. Broken

Chapter Fourteen – Broken

As they returned to the lobby via elevator, Miss Parker told Broots, "I want you to get me everything there is on security here."

"Um, okay," he replied. "Can I know why?"

"Step two of my plan," she began. "We're going to sneak Jarod out of here from right under Lyle's nose."

"We?" Broots repeated.

"You're just going to set him free?" Sydney asked.

Miss Parker took a devil-may-care attitude. "Sure. Why not?"

Reminding her of a crucial fact, he said. "You'll have to hunt for him again once he disappears."

"I can always find him again."

The doctor gave her an eyebrow quirk.

The elevator opened with a ping and Broots scurried away to do Miss Parker's bidding. Sydney and Miss Parker split up, and as he walked, he ran into Lyle. "Fancy meeting you here," the man with the missing thumb remarked.

"This is the way to my office," Sydney said matter-of-factly.

"So it is," he replied distractedly. "Anyway, I just came here to tell you something: You're barred from seeing Jarod."

Sydney was shocked. "What? Why not?"

"I'm afraid you have a bad influence on him," Lyle explained. "You see, the last time you took care of him, he ran away."

"Who wouldn't try to get away from this place?" he asked.

"See, this is exactly what I was talking about," Lyle said as he guided Sydney into the doctor's office. "It'd be better if you just kept to your psychogenic research. We don't want someone in their dotage affecting the genius."

"And I suppose you'd be better?" Sydney inquired, his voice rising.

Pretending not to hear him, Lyle bid him goodbye and left. The doctor was left murmuring to himself. "'In my dotage' indeed."

In SL-14, Jarod sat in a corner of the cage, curled up and trying to ignore the blinking strobe. His ability to blink in time with the strobe only slightly improved his situation.

Presently, the light stopped flashing. A little later, Jarod looked up, and gradually, Lyle's figure came into focus as it drew nearer and nearer. When he was close enough, the captive asked irritably, "What do you want?"

Feigning innocence, Lyle answered smoothly, "Nothing, Jarod. I just thought I'd talk with you."

Turning away, Jarod remarked, "No one at The Centre ever wants 'nothing'."

Lyle mulled this over for a brief while and then said, "Do you want to take a gander at the list of passengers who died in the plane that crashed three days ago?"

Jarod sighed. "I don't see how that would help things."

"Oh, it would," Lyle disagreed. "I assure you, it would make things much easier of me." He handed the man a list, and he took it. Lyle circled the outside of the cage as the other scanned the document.

After a while, Jarod looked up. "Margaret Russell? Is that ... my mom?"

Not feeling the least bit sad, Lyle answered, "I'm afraid it is."

In shock, Jarod refused to believe. "No, it can't be!" He blinked away a tear. "No, no, no, no, no! Mom, no!"

Lyle tore his gaze from the anguished Pretender and turned to the Sweeper. "Turn the lights off after I leave," he instructed. He can be left alone with his thoughts."

Jarod threw himself at the bars nearest the man with the gloved hand, who retreated a small step. "You did this, didn't you?!" he yelled. "You killed my mom!"

"Tut, tut, Jarod," Lyle reprimanded. "Innocent until proven guilty. What do you have to incriminate me?"

The lights turned off. Jarod slid down the bars, sobbing. "You killed my mom! You killed her! My mom ..."

Broots timidly knocked on the jamb of the door. When Miss Parker looked up, he crossed the distance to her desk quickly so that he could speak very softly and still be comprehended. "Here they are: schematics for the security and a record of what every single guard here does."

"Thanks," she said out of habit and looked through it.

The computer technician began wringing his hands. "Mr. Raines isn't going to like this."

She did not look up. "Leave him to me. Just worry about who you're going out with on your next blind date."

As day turned to dusk and people began leaving, Jarod stewed in his despair, depression and anger. His situation infuriated him to no end. Of a whim, Lyle had decided to kill his mother _and keep him captive for weeks. It was a pity that murder was against the law._

Then he would steer clear away from the dangerous train of thought. He'd try to remember his mother, but it was difficult because he hadn't seen her in such a long time.

After a while, his mind would turn to Lyle again, and so it went, in circles and circles of endless thoughts.


	15. It Clicked

Chapter Fifteen – It Clicked

Miss Parker stayed in during lunch the next day. She had spent the previous night and this morning going over the files Broots had given her but no sudden insight had come to her.

Her concentration was often interrupted by the conversations others carried as they walked by her door. As of now, however, it was very quiet – nearly everyone had gone out to lunch.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"He hasn't eaten in two days."

It was early the next morning as Lyle stared at the man in the cage who, for all the world, seemed like he was in a catatonic state. He gazed ahead, apparently unaware of what was going on. The thumbless man was apathetic. "Shove the food down his throat."

The Sweeper stationed outside Jarod's cage continued to defend himself. "He won't swallow anything."

Skeptical, Lyle instructed, "Let me see you try again."

The guard shrugged his shoulders and sighed. With Lyle, he entered the cage and together, they approached Jarod. He continued to stare through them.

"Jarod!" the Sweeper called loudly. "It's breakfast."

There was no response, and Lyle grew frustrated. "You're not trying hard enough," he said. "You need to threaten him!" He offered the meal, holding it close to his face, as if trying to get him to focus n it. "Jarod, if you don't eat this, you're not getting any for a week," he warned.

A spark lit briefly in Jarod's eye. He focused on Lyle, and seemed to reach up for the tray slowly, making no sudden movements.

"See?" Lyle said, his back turned for a second to address the Sweeper. "It wasn't that hard."

Jarod pounced on Lyle, knocking the tray out of his hand and causing him to yell. An apple rolled and a sandwich fell apart. Hours of visualizing allowed the Pretender to reach instantly for the throat. The Sweeper pressed a button twice on the walkie-talkie hanging from his belt and then moved to help his superior. Jarod, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to squeeze a confession out of Lyle as he yelled, "You killed my mom! You killed my mom!"

Other Sweepers arrived soon to help the lone Sweeper already in the cage. They struggled to pull Jarod off Lyle and he continued to fight them as they gave him a mild sedative. As Lyle crawled out of the cage, the others watched the drugged man continue to reach for him while two of their members held him. Lyle tenderly rubbed his throat as he watched the captive fall asleep. He stood up and turned to the original Sweeper. In disbelief, he asked, "He hasn't eaten in how many days?"

When Lyle's throat felt less tender, he decided to approach Sydney. The doctor, however, still remembered the insult the thumbless man had thrown carelessly at him, and did not welcome him. Instead, he sat silently while the other entered and explained his reason coming. "Sydney," he began. "I need some help managing Jarod."

Although he was concerned, the psychologist remained quiet. Likewise, the insolence irked the other, but he did not show it. "Your little experiment is neither eating nor drinking, and I'm sure you don't want the Grim Reaper to visit before the appointed time."

When, again, there was no response, Lyle resorted to asking. "Can you talk some sense into him?"

Sydney stayed silent so long that, for a fleeting moment, Lyle thought, _Catatonic. He finally asked, "What happened to 'being in my dotage' and my pernicious influence?"_

The young man tried to shrug it off. "You know I didn't mean that. The Centre will always need you."

The elder sighed. Dealing with the son was like dealing with his father, if indeed Mr. Parker had fathered him. At last, he agreed, for Jarod's sake. "Alright. I'll go down to talk to him."

"Thanks," Lyle said, smiling vaguely. "I owe you one," he added, promising a favor both knew he had no intention to fulfill.

When the treacherous man was gone, Sydney smiled as well, happy in the thought that he'd be able to visit his protégé.

A little later, the doctor arrived at SL-14. He found the door that opened to the room that held Jarod's cage and entered.

A tray of food to the man's left lay untouched. Instead of eating, he seemed to be thinking very deeply. His clothes were disheveled, as if he had just been in a struggle, and the old man assumed this the reason Lyle had sent him.

Sydney stepped up to the cage and began speaking to him: "Jarod, I understand it's your choice if you want to eat or not, but people are still out there and they need you. Within The Centre lies your sanctuary, but you need to be ready when the time comes for them to transfer you ... to Africa, to anywhere."

He waited for a response, but Jarod neither acted nor spoke. After a while, the doctor left, hoping his message had gotten across.

The genius pondered the second half of his trainer's monologue. In particular, he dwelt on the word 'sanctuary,' reviewing its meaning and possible synonyms. Finally, he smiled and began to eat. 'Sanctuary', he had realized, was another word for 'refuge', but Lyle already discovered that code word, so Sydney hadn't been able to use it. If, however, he had decoded this particular message correctly, his escape was at hand.


	16. Flawless Escape

Chapter Sixteen – A Flawless Escape?

At night, when just about everyone else was gone, sleeping, or hanging about doors pretending to guard them, a janitor tucked a wheelchair into a corner of the room. Then he gave Jarod a sandwich and a bit of cake, as well as a soda. The genius accepted them eagerly; the bland food The Centre gave him made him wonder if anyone who actually ate the food regularly had lost their taste buds long ago. With a bit of sandwich he had eagerly bitten off in his mouth, he asked, "What's the deal with the wheels?"

"A friend of yours asked me to drop it off here."

"Can you tell me who?" Jarod asked the janitor, who was scruffy-haired and amiable. The tag on his shirt read 'Ron.'

"Nope," he said, shaking his head as he continued sweeping. "Asked me not to tell you. Guess the person thought Lyle might be able to get something out of you."

The captive sighed. "Oh."

"By the way," Ron began. "I hear you nearly killed the one-thumbed psycho today. True?"

"They had to drug me to get me to stop," Jarod said with a small grin of his face.

"Atta boy!" the janitor exclaimed. "He deserved it. I don't think anyone here likes him anyhow." He finished dusting. "Sorry, friend, but I gotta go. This place has a lot of dirty rooms."

"Indeed," the other murmured. As he left, Jarod called, "Bye, Ron!"

Then, once again, he was left in the dark.

The next morning, Miss Parker entered Broots' office. "Your part of step two begins today at lunch."

Broots swallowed the lump in his throat. Although this was not something he wanted to do, she did not look like she would tolerate being questioned. "A-alright," he stuttered and she left.

Later, Sydney intercepted the person who usually gave Jarod his meal and offered to take it down for him. Eager to get out of duty, the man accepted.

Broots snuck into the Tech Room. He shouldn't have wasted the effort, however – it was empty, as was much of the Centre; only a skeleton crew remained. Besides, he worked there much of the time. He chose a computer other than his and signed on.

Sydney walked through a corridor, taking a packet out of his pocket as he did so. When he was sure no one was watching, he slipped the white powder into the sandwich on the tray and continued on his way.

            Raines took note of the furtive action from his position just inside an office door in the same hallway.

"Hello, Jarod!" the doctor greeted as he approached the cage.

"Hi, Sydney," the captive said as he took the tray. "Where's Nick?"

The doctor took this to mean the man he had taken the tray from. "Oh. I offered to take the tray down so I could have a reason to see you."

"Oh," Jarod said as the Sweeper allowed Sydney in and locked the door again. He watched the doctor study the cell and could tell that he was ever so slightly uncomfortable on this side of the bars. "Not very homey, is it?" Sydney asked.

The young man sat down with the tray he had accepted from the elder on a bench adjacent to a side of the cage. He took a bite of the sandwich, which tasted vaguely of pistachio. "I don't expect to be here long."

Sydney nodded. "That's the spirit," he said.

A few minutes after Jarod finished his lunch, he started brushing his hands across his lips every so often in a compulsive manner. "Is there something wrong?" Sydney asked.

As if suddenly aware of what he was doing, the Pretender stopped. "No," he lied as he dug his hands into his lap.

"Has Lyle been to visit you?" the doctor asked.

"Not since yesterday," Jarod said with a slight smile.

"What did you do to him?"

"What have you heard?" the young man returned.

"Someone tells me you pounced and throttled him. Is it true?"

With an even larger grin, Jarod said, "What do you think?"

Sydney lapsed into a silence. After a while, Jarod asked, "Have you decided yet?"

He shook his head. "I can't figure out why you would do such a thing. I assume that you decided to postpone carrying out your vendetta against Lyle. And The Centre isn't the best place to do stuff like this."

An agonized expression flickered across Jarod's face. Then he shifted awkwardly, as if there was a pain in his abdomen. "Sydney," he observed. "I think I'm allergic to something I ate."

As if the reaction was triggered by awareness, Jarod started having difficulty breathing. To Sydney's dismay, the conditioned worsened more rapidly than he'd anticipated. Before the doctor could say anything further, his protégé went into anaphylactic shock and collapsed, his beating ragged and his pulse weak. "What are you doing just standing there?!" Sydney yelled at the Sweeper who was standing speechless outside. "Get that wheelchair over here! He needs medical attention and we can't very well carry him!"

The Sweeper dashed for the chair he couldn't remember ever being there and fumbled for the key to the cage door. He opened it just as alarms began ringing out.

In the Tech Room, Broots spoke into a headset he'd stolen from the lone security guard watching the surveillance cameras. He nervously watched the guard, who he'd knocked out with an injection, as his voice was distorted through a synthesizer. "Security breaches on Sub-Levels Twenty-One, Twenty-Three, and Twenty-Four. Motion sensors indicate the intruders are moving rapidly." He paused. "I repeat, security breaches on Sub-Levels Twenty-One ..."

Miss Parker ran out of her office and was assembling there teams of six Sweepers each when Lyle dashed out of his. "What are you doing?" he asked in an irritated tone.

"Going after the security breath, my dear brother," she said, equally vexed. "What does it look like?"

"Well, if you've got one team and I've got the other," Lyle called to her, "who's got the third?"

"They can think for themselves!" Miss Parker yelled over her shoulder as she ran for an elevator.

While Sydney maneuvered Jarod into the wheelchair, the Sweeper hovered at the door, apparently torn between staying as Lyle instructed and going as the alarms urged. "Go!" the doctor exclaimed. "Until Jarod is better, there's no point guarding him!"

The Sweeper ran, leaving Sydney alone.

As soon as the other was gone, the doctor gave Jarod an antihistamine, as well as a stimulant, via injection. They were powerful together, and as he ran down the corridor for an elevator that wasn't going down, the invalid's immune system began letting up. As Sydney punched the buttons to the elevator, his breathing cleared up and the pulse grew stronger. He was not over the anaphylactic shock, however.

The lobby was virtually devoid of activity as Sydney rushed him out of The Centre. Jarod winched while the old man pushed him down a ramp and made a particularly bad turn.  He noticed this and joyfully exclaimed, "You're awake!"

Jarod winced once more as he changed position in the wheelchair. In a strained voice, he said, "And never been better!" He slowly got up and started running. Abandoning the wheelchair, Sydney followed his lead.

From a window above, Miss Parker watched the two escape, having made her brief appearance on SL-23. She called Broots on her cell phone, telling him, "Kill the noise," before hanging up. The arrival of silence coincided with Sydney and Jarod's speeding off in a car.

From a window to her left, Raines witnessed the same thing.

At the Tech Room, Broots doctored everything he had touched. He wiped off any possible fingerprints he may have left on the headset and replaced them on the security guard's head. Broots altered the records on the computer he'd been working on, making it look like a break-in from TekNolo-G, providing server ID and everything. Lastly, he checked each of the surveillance tapes and got rid of any trace of Sydney after 11:30 this morning, which was before he had ran into Nick, and himself in the Tech Room.

The computer technician was most careful in his cover-up. If he made one slip, no one would be able to catch him when he fell.

In the passenger seat of the Ford they had taken, Jarod was still feeling ill, and the way his eyelids drooped, coupled with the slight downward turn to his mouth, made him look very unhappy. Suddenly, he asked, "Where are you taking me now?"

Keeping his eyes on the road, the doctor answered, "Away from The Centre."

In a bad humor, the protégé criticized his teacher. "Now that's a hypocritical thing to do. On the one hand, you're trying to capture me. With the other, you're setting me free."

"Miss Parker and Broots are in this, too," Sydney said.

Slightly surprised and a little skeptical, Jarod glanced at Sydney. "What?" he asked. "Miss Parker? Why?"

"You know the two men who took part in your capture two and a half weeks ago, Stuard and Meeker?" Sydney began. Jarod nodded. "After the plane crashed, Miss Parker found that they were working for Mr. Lyle, and that Mr. Lyle had stolen a large sum from The Centre, doctoring his traces so that it looked like Mr. Raines did it. With proof that Miss Parker had 'worked' with two people outside of The Centre to capture – and, further more, hadn't immediately turned you in after they did – "

"Lyle would have had easy access to the top of the ladder. Instead, it looks like he both caught me _and _let me slip through his fingers," Jarod finished.

The doctor nodded his head. "Yes, so the fight for control of The Centre continues."

"It's as if Miss Parker knew she couldn't act against her father, so she took it out on Lyle instead," the young man remarked.

Sydney glanced at Jarod, who was looking outside with the window rolled all the way down and enjoying the wind and sun on his face. He seemed to have recovered fully by now and there seemed to be no trace at having been a pawn while Lyle and Miss Parker played chess. But Jarod could hide his feelings well.

At Miss Parker's house, Jarod collected his things, stuffing the Taj Mahal into the same bag that contained his cell phone, PEZ dispensers, red notebook, and wallet.

"What about the puzzle?" Sydney asked.

The young man removed a piece near the center and put it into his pocket. "She can have it."

They arrived at an Amtrak train station, and Sydney gave Jarod a ticket as a clock chimed one. "Get going," he said. "Or you'll be late for the train."

Jarod put his Halliburton case on the ground so that he could shake the doctor's hand. "Thanks, Sydney," he said softly.

Sydney nodded.

A man rolled some luggage in the doctor's direction and, realizing that he would be cutting it extremely fine, asked him, "Hey, can you move it over there?"

"Oh, sorry," Sydney apologized as he got out of the way. He watched the man pass and turned to Jarod, but he was gone.

Instead of looking around himself, Sydney scanned the windows of the train. He was able to glimpse Jarod's profile before he truly disappeared.


	17. Rejected

Chapter Seventeen – Rejected

Raines had called both Miss Parker and Lyle into his office. "Neither of your teams caught the intruders?" he wheezed angrily.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Raines," Lyle said in an insolent tone, "but either they escaped, or it was a false alarm."

"You had better hope it was the second," the old man hissed.

The Sweeper who had been guarding Jarod's cage ran past the open door, did a double take, and peeked his head into the room. "Mr. Lyle," he called. "Can I speak to you for a second?"

The thumb-less man went to meet him, but Miss Parker interjected with "What he wants to tell Lyle I want to hear too."

The Sweeper gave Lyle a questioning glance, but Raines nodded so he was unable to admit his ineptitude in private. "Jarod's gone," he said.

"Gone?" Lyle repeated.

"When?" Miss Parker asked.

"While the alarms were blaring. I left to go look for the intruders."

"You abandoned your post?" asked Miss Parker.

"The bells must have been a distraction," the Sweeper said.

Realizing what had gone on, Lyle accused his sister, "You did it, didn't you?! You helped Jarod escape!"

"How could I?" she returned. "I was down in SL-23, remember?"

"Then it must have been Broots or Sydney," Lyle continued. "Where are _they?"_

"Out to lunch. Check the tapes and see," she replied.

"I think I will," he said, turning to leave.

"Don't forget," Raines called to Lyle. "The Triumvirate will expect someone to pay for this once I write a report!"

There was no response from Lyle, who left with the Sweeper. Miss Parker watched them go.

"Thank you for foiling him, my daughter," Raines said.

Miss Parker turned around to face him, startled by what he had said. "Come again?" she asked.

"I called you my daughter," he repeated.

"How did you know I did it?" she asked, stunned.

Raines wheezed. "I watched several discreet actions that made it clear Sydney was trying to get Jarod out." He paused to take a long breath. "I also noticed you watching them go."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Miss Parker continued.

"Family members stick up for each other."

Miss Parker turned away with disgust at the mention of kinship again. "After all the things you've done to me, you think blood means I'll just forget?" she asked. "We aren't family, Mr. Raines. I may be your daughter, but you're not my father." She started to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to hunt for Jarod."

"Then I know you will bring him back safely," Raines said.

She paused, surprised by the expression of his faith in her abilities and humanity. Not even Mr. Parker had done that.

Miss Parker resumed leaving and Mr. Raines was alone.


	18. Uncovered

Chapter Eighteen - Uncovered

On the train, Jarod tried to hack into his own Internet program. Miss Parker had reset the password and he wanted to know what it was. He continued to type furiously as the man across from him buried himself deeper into his physics book.

At a motel in a small town outside Trenton, New Jersey, Jarod looked at a complete profile of Seth Meeker while fiddling with a chemistry set up, which was next to a mouse cage. It contained several white rodents of the Black Norwegian variety. He had managed to find the password – "pistachio", the one food he couldn't eat without adverse reaction – and had changed it after adding a new security measure to make sure no one would be able to have unauthorized access to his computer.

He took the contents out of a test tube, readied a syringe, and experimented on a mouse. It seemed as if nothing happened for a long while. Then it stiffened and fell to its side, as if dead.

While the mouse, labeled 'A', slept, Jarod checked the conditions of the current dosage. The effects of the drug he had concocted were similar to that of aconite, which would induce a coma-like state in large doses. The main difference was that he was looking for one that wore off in about fifteen minutes.

As he copied down Seth's address, the mouse woke up and scurried into a corner of the cage. Jarod smiled and poured a little of the drug into a soda and swallowed the drink.

In a quarter of an hour, Jarod, too, died, and thirty minutes after that, he woke up. He took out a pair of identical postcards and addressed them to his original capturers. He was able to affect Lyle's handwriting, having had access to several hard-copy documents written by the conniving man. Each of the cards said the same thing: "'Meet me at the Old Towne Pub at three o'clock tomorrow morning. I want to discuss your performing another service for me. I'm willing pay a hefty sum. Address: 107 W. Loockerman St.' – Lyle"

Into an envelope, he stuffed a check he had filled out, and he licked the flap.

Both Seth Meeker and Andrew Stuard arrived at the bar earlier than the postcard had instructed, enticed by the money 'Lyle' promised. They spotted each other across the bar and sat next to each other at the counter, where they began whispering furtively. "What d'ya think the guy'll ask us to do next?" Meeker hissed.

"Whatever it is, I am sure it will be quite entertaining," Stuard assured. The formal way he spoke sharply contrasted with his mercenary character. "And don't worry. He paid us very well last time."

"If ya say so," the less educated man said skeptically.

A man with smooth, dark hair and a mole under his right eye approached them, wiping a glass clean. "What'll you have?" Jarod asked.

To both of the men sitting on the stools, he looked oddly familiar. Stuard tried to place him while Meeker replied, "I'll be havin' a fucker."

"Excuse me?" the bartender asked.

Stuard explained. "He means a '1-900 Fuk-Meup'. I simply cannot imagine why he would want to drink that. The name they gave the beverage is simply dreadful, and you can tell that the drink bites." He paused. "I, on the other hand, would like to drink a gimlet. And make it half vodka, half lemon juice, nothing else, please."

Jarod drifted away to mix their drinks, and they two continued whispering. The shorter hand on the clock neared the twelve, and as they sipped the beverage the bartender gave them, it flowed past it. Stuard grew anxious. "You don't think we've been stood up, do you, friend?" he asked.

"I'd give 'im 'nuther ten minutes. He's been late before," the other replied as he finished quaffing his drink.

Stuard stirred his slowly, taking sips every so often. "You know, I can't tell where I've seen the bartender before. Does he look familiar to you?" he said, bringing up another matter on his mind.

"Mighta," Meeker said unhelpfully. "World's a pretty big place."

There was silence for a while, during which they waited impatiently. Finally the ten minutes passed. Stuard got up. "That's it. I do have a second job, and I can't afford to waste the day idling it away here."

"Okey," the less educated man responded as he got up as well. "He's prolly not showin' anyway." However, as he got up, he winced and held his hand to his abdomen. "Ow!" he cried out.

"Seth, are you all right?" Stuard said as he approached his friend.

"Ya think me bendin' over and yellin' in pain means I'm okay?" the other yelled angrily.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stuard apologized, then added, "You know, that seems to be a question people ask out of courtesy more than out of common sense."

Not interested in the insightful comment, Meeker groaned as he said, "I think it was something in the drink."

Looking up, the well-trimmed acquaintance called to the dark-haired man. "Bartender! This man thinks that you've mixed something dirty in that drink you gave him."

Jarod seemed angry. "Why would I do something like that?" he asked.

"Well, I'm sure he was feeling fine before he got here," Stuard said. "It was only after that nasty beverage that he started feeling sick."

"Maybe the drink doesn't like 'im," the bartender muttered.

"Look, the least you could do is offer us a ride to a doctor."

"Nuh-uh," Meeker argued. "I don't trust them doctors." But he doubled up in pain once more.

"Fine," the dark-haired man said as he sighed. "Go out and wait by my car. It's the dark blue Chevy. I gotta close the bar."

"Thanks," Stuard said gratefully as Meeker groaned.

The bartender didn't share the same sentiments. "Whatever."

Jarod was soon outside, having relinquished the Old Towne Pub to the real bartender, and he let Stuard and Meeker into his car. This time, both of the men seemed doubled up. "Bartender," Stuard began as he groaned. "I think there was something wrong with my gimlet, too."

"This had to happen during rush hour," Jarod complained as he got into his car.

When they were well on their way, the ex-bartender asked, "So, how are you feeling? Nauseous? Unable to breathe? Do you have cramps?"

Stuard finally made the connection. "I know where I've seen you before! You were the man Mr. Lyle hired me to kidnap!"

"Yep," Jarod said with a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously, despite the pain he felt in his abdomen.

"I'm here to give you an antidote to the poison in your drinks," Jarod said as he dangled a vial just out of reach.

At the mention of an easy remedy to their pain, both Stuard and Meeker reached for the antidote, only to have Jarod pull it back. "Unh unh unh," he reprimanded. "The two pilots you killed on November 26th didn't have an antidote." His voice rose. "You were the cause of the deaths of 400 people, one of whom was my mother. Give me a good reason why either of you should live." 

Almost immediately Seth and Meeker turned on each other:

"It was 'Drew's idea to go along with it – "

"Neither of us thought the pilots would die – "

"Seth said no one would get hurt – "

"At least they died in their sleep?"

"I had nothing to do with slippin' the drug into their drinks. That was 'Drew."

"That is entirely false. Seth had just as much part in it as I did. No. Wait. Make that he was more responsible for it than I was – "

"Enough!" Jarod yelled, causing the two to shut up. "I've decided." He held out the antidote to Meeker. "Should you get it?" He seemed to consider a moment, then retracted his offer. "Nope." Holding it out to Stuard, he asked, "Should _you get it?" As Stuard grabbed for the vial, Jarod pulled it back again and made a tutting noise. "Nope." He tossed it out the window as both Stuard and Meeker moaned. "The truth is, I don't think neither of you deserved it, and I've waited a long time for revenge against the people who killed my mom."_

Stuard made a last attempt at changing Jarod's mind. "Surely you don't want the deaths of two people on your head?"

"It's better than 400," Jarod quipped. Then he smiled. "It's too late anyway. You guys should die right about ... now."

As if on cue, both of the men heaved a sigh and collapsed. Jarod pulled a tape recorder out from behind the visor over his head. He ejected the tape and slipped it into an envelope he marked 'To the DA. Re: Airplane Crash on 11/26.' After a brief call to the police during which he calmly informed them of two unconscious men were linked to the 'accident', Jarod hailed a taxi and returned to his motel.

An e-mail was waiting for Jarod when he got back. He clicked on the image of the mailbox, which had the words 'You Have Mail' spinning around it. He ignored an outdated and unopened e-mail titled 'Become a Graphic Designer' and clicked on the one under it, which was titled 'Refuge'.

There was a short message, which read, "INFORMATION ON MOTHER. CLICK HERE: . SYDNEY." Needless to say, he clicked on the link.

A web page loaded quickly, and Jarod soon realized why Sydney had sent it to him. The site was devoted to the victims of the crash of November 26th. There was a complete list of victims, whose names one could click to visit pages where family and friends could talk about their loved ones. Once again, he scanned the list, expecting to find his mother and hoping he would be able to talk to people who knew her. To his surprise, the name 'Margaret Russell' never appeared. He scanned twice, thrice, again and again, but to no avail. _She's still alive, he realized. A kind of expressionless joy ran through him and he simply could not stop grinning. Picking up the handset of a touch-tone phone, he dialed Sydney._

"Sydney here," the doctor said on the other end.

"Hi. It's Jarod."

The psychiatrist was elated to get a call from the Pretender. "Oh, Jarod! It's nice to hear you again. Did you get the e-mail?"

"That's what I came to call you about. Thanks for the link."

"You're welcome."

"One thing, Sydney," Jarod said. "How did you know about my mom?"

"Broots gave me a couple of tapes he had stolen from the Tech Room. One was labeled November 29th. The other, December 1st."

"Oh," Jarod murmured. "Then you know also know about me choking him."

"It's all right. Not only did he find your mother first, you thought he took away all chance of your knowing her."

"I can't believe I fell for it," Jarod said slightly sheepishly.

"It's all right," Sydney assured him. "There'll be plenty of time to find her, and in the meantime, you can be a thorn in Lyle's side."

The Pretender laughed. "Alright." Having nothing else to say, he said, "Well, bye, Sydney, and thanks again for the site."

"Goodbye, Jarod," the doctor returned. In his office, he heard the click on the other side and hung up.

In his lair, the genius took out a pair of scissors and cut out an article from a newspaper he had before him. The title read "Men Responsible for 11-26 Crash in Custody", and he added it to a red notebook he'd filled with articles on the crash.


	19. Return to Normalcy

Chapter Nineteen – Return to Normalcy

Miss Parker locked the door to her house once inside. Taking her coat off and laying it on her sofa, she noticed the envelope on her coffee table. It bore her name in Jarod's distinct handwriting. She picked it up as the telephone rang. "What is it now, Jarod?"

He did not act surprised, although Miss Parker's intuition never failed to amuse him. "I just wanted to see how you were coping without me."

"Very funny," she said. "What's with the envelope?"

"Just open it," Jarod said unhelpfully.

She did as told, curious as to the contents, and found a check for $2500. "And this is for ..." she prompted.

"I thought I should pay for the time I spent at Chalet Parker," he explained.

"You make it sound like you came of your own free will, instead of drugged and unconscious," she remarked.

Jarod grinned, although Miss Parker couldn't see it. "I still got room service. Besides," he added, "you can get yourself something nice to wear. Six-inch heels are murder to wear and did you see blouse you wore on Thanksgiving?"

"So says one who thinks shirts and sweatpants match," she quipped.

"Ah, touché." There was a pause, and then Jarod asked, "How are things going with your father?"

Miss Parker sighed into the phone. "What kind of man hides his relationship from you for your whole life, and then expects to be part of your life? He called me his daughter yesterday."

"But you still hate him?"

"I don't know ... how could you possibly hate your father? ... I'm all mixed up inside."

"Your religion's falling apart, Miss Parker. What'll you do when there's no one left to hate?"

There was another pause, and another sigh. "I don't know. What'll you do, now that you know your mother's not dead?"

Jarod gave a small smile on his end of the phone. "Why does everyone have to know before I do?" he said, mocking Miss Parker with her own question.

"I found out at the same time Sydney did."

"Huh," the genius said. "I'll be searching, I guess. And you'll chase." He sighed. "It's our lot."

"That's just the Parker curse," she said, repeating the words he'd uttered weeks ago. "Everything else is up to us."

Miss Parker smiled sadly, and for the first time, hung up before Jarod did.

He smiled as well, put away his cell phone, shifted his Cadillac into drive, and raced down the highway.


End file.
